


Tangent

by spiral_static



Series: Non-Zero Possibility [1]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Addiction, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Department of Domestic Defence, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dominic Rook being good at his job, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Near Death Experience, Past Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 158,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiral_static/pseuds/spiral_static
Summary: Sometimes, when you feel like you have lost everything, new meaning can be found in the most unlikely of places.





	1. #SJ031

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been sitting on my hard drive for about a year now, and I’ve finally decided to start posting it.  
> I currently have over 100,000 words written and no end in sight!  
> Will be updated regularly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic considers the Type 2 in front of him for a moment. If he lets himself, he can almost feel the ancient power emanating from him, but rather than unnerved, as he usually is in the presence of such a creature, he finds himself feeling a morbid fascination, almost curiosity towards him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own the characters, I’ve just borrowed them for a little while. 
> 
> This chapter contains dialogue that has been taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 1 “The Trinity”.

I have only two emotions  
Careful fear and dead devotion  
I can’t get the balance right  
Throw my marbles in the fight

\- The National, “Don’t Swallow the Cap”

 

Dominic Rook has always had a deep, all consuming loathing for Type 2s. He despises all supernaturals, as a matter of fact, but Type 2s have always been right up at the top of his list. Dealing with their kind just makes him feel ill at ease, like there is something in the air around them that tells him to turn his back and run. The Type 2 currently residing in one of the holding cells deep in the Archive is no exception.

Sure, physically she resembles a child, a girl of no more than eleven or twelve. But Dominic is not fool enough to let the façade of the little girl with pigtails and a pretty dress blind him to the fact that beneath it is a cruel and sadistic monster of over four hundred and fifty years.

He braces himself and steps through the secure doors into the holding cell.

The girl turns around to face him as he enters, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Okay, dicksplash. For the last time, I’m not planning anything. Don’t get me wrong. I could pull your kidneys out through your nostrils, if I wanted. But lucky for you, I’m getting way too old for this shit.”

Dominic is taken aback by the foul language coming out of the little girl’s mouth, but he is too much of a professional to let on how uncomfortable she is making him. With an air of unwavering superiority, he replies, “Hetty, you’re the last of the Old Ones. Of course you’re planning something. Malevolence and greed are hardwired into your DNA.”

Hetty snorts. “Yeah? And your mum’s so fat, her blood type’s Ragu.”

Dominic inwardly rolls his eyes at the insolent brat. She may be the last of the Old Ones, but mentally she is obviously still on the level of a prepubescent girl.

“Besides,” Hetty continues, “who says I’m the last one?”

Now this is an interesting piece of information. Could there possibly be another Old One unaccounted for? Their records suggest that all but one of the Old Ones were destroyed in the explosion at the docks a month ago.

“What?” he asks with narrowed eyes, but Hetty is avoiding his question, instead asking whether she is allowed to smoke.

When Dominic, in turn, ignores her request and prompts her to answer his question, she finally admits, “There’s another Old One. In fact, it’s because of him our whole world domination thing went tits up.”

This really _is_ an interesting piece of information. “Who?” he asks.

Hetty sounds almost bored as she replies, “Hal. A human sympathiser. He was always kinda skittish.”

By this point, Hetty has Dominic’s undivided attention. Can it be? This Hal must have been hiding away in a cave if he had avoided their detection for the last few hundred years.

But to Dominic’s dismay, Hetty is not exactly forthcoming with information. “What if we opened a window?” she asks. “Seriously, I’m gasping here.”

Dominic has no time for her games. “How about this?” he offers. “You tell me all you can about this Hal, and I’ll arrange for an Airforce flight to return you to Bolivia tomorrow.”

Hetty narrows her eyes at him, but says, “Sounds like a plan. But make sure they’ve got some crayons. In case I want to draw some ponies and shit.”

 _Give me strength_ , Dominic thinks as he puts on his best fake smile and waits for her to continue.

Hetty sighs and starts, “Hal used to be all right. He went under the name of Lord Harry back then. He was brutal, absolutely ruthless.” The way she says it makes it sound like they are qualities to be admired. “He could’ve gone far.”

“What happened?” asks Dominic.

“He met some dog, went underground, thought that he could go clean.” Hetty rolls her eyes. “No one saw or heard anything of him for like fifty years. And then all of a sudden, he’s right there, with a new dog in tow, trying to blow us all up.”

Dominic is intrigued. “So it was Hal who blew up the Old Ones?”

Hetty shakes her head. “No, that was the ghost. The one who was guarding the baby.”

Dominic nods. “The War Child.” He read the file about the baby. The fact that an innocent child had to die to save humanity from the Old Ones does not sit well with him, but unfortunately sacrifices have to be made every day. “She was guarded by a Type 1?”

“Yeah. She was the one who detonated the bomb. Hal just brought it in. No idea what happened to him after that.” Hetty shrugs.

“But you’re positive he didn’t die in the explosion?”

Hetty nods.

“And you said that he was accompanied by a Type 3?” At Hetty’s blank expression, he clarifies, “A werewolf?”

“Tom, I think his name was. He brought the baby in. Said he was going to stay with her, to work for us. Didn’t seem like they’d talked that through. Listen, I’m pretty much ready to kill someone for a fag.”

But Dominic is not quite finished with her yet. “Just one more question, Hetty.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you have any idea where I can find this Hal, or Tom?”

Hetty asks for a pen and paper and scribbles down an address. “No idea if they’re still there. Wouldn’t think they’d be stupid enough to stick around. But then again, this is Hal we’re talking about.” She shrugs and hands Dominic the paper.

“Thank you, Hetty,” he says and turns on his heels to leave the holding cell.

Once outside, he takes a deep breath, and a small smile plays on his lips. An Old One who is also a human sympathiser. This sounds like an unmissable opportunity. He glances down at the address on the paper. He should definitely pay this Hal a visit. But first, there is another person he needs to see.

Dominic makes his way to the archive room and calls for Arthur, the archivist. Arthur pokes his head out from behind a shelf when he hears Dominic’s voice.

“Mr Rook! What can I do for you today?” Arthur says jovially.

Dominic smiles. “I hope you can help me with an enquiry, Arthur. I’m looking for information on a Type 2. He goes by the name of Hal, but previously was also known as ‘Lord Harry’.”

Arthur frowns. “Hmm… That name doesn’t ring any bells, if I’m honest. Let me have a look…” Arthur pulls out a long list of names and numbers and runs his finger down the page. “Lord Harry, you say?”

Dominic nods. Arthur returns to the list, flicking over to the second page. “Nothing in the last… fifty years,” he says finally.

“Look further back,” says Dominic, remembering what Hetty told him about Hal’s ‘disappearance’.

Arthur flips the page over and continues to search down page three. He is about halfway down the list when he shouts, “There! Lord Harry, AKA Henry Yorke. Last recorded 21 April 1955, involvement in dog fights.”

“That’s him,” Dominic says triumphantly.

“#SJ031. Aisle 13.” Arthur says with a smile.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Dominic is already moving towards aisle 13.

“Anytime, Mr Rook, anytime.”

Dominic locates the file and carries the heavy grey folder back to his desk. He stops off at the staff kitchen to make himself a much-needed cup of tea before he sits down and opens the file. Judging by the weight of the folder, he will be here a while.

The first thing he sees is an old photograph of a detailed portrait of a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties. Dominic takes the photo in his hand and studies the man’s face. He is undeniably handsome, with kind hazel eyes and a soft smile on his lips. Dominic narrows his eyes. Clearly this portrait had been painted before the man was turned into a Type 2. He places the photo on the desk and picks up the next piece. A yellowed page, written on an old-fashioned typewriter, giving biographical details.

_#SJ031_

_Type 2_

_Goes by the name of Henry Yorke, AKA Lord Henry, AKA Lord Harry._

_Recruited 08 September 1514 in Orsha, Belarus by unknown Type 2 (possibly #OW019)._

_Physical appearance of a Caucasian male, aged early to mid-twenties (? born c. 1490 AD), brown hair, brown eyes, 5’10” in height…_

Dominic doesn’t bother to read the rest of the detailed description of Henry Yorke’s appearance and spoken languages – although he does note that there are a fair few of them. Hetty called him Hal, a name that does not appear in his file. Maybe he hadn’t started using it until after his disappearance.

Dominic starts to look through the rest of the documents in the folder. Cases over cases of gruesome scenes involving brutally murdered and disfigured victims, forced fights between Type 3s and humans, recruitment of enough Type 2s to populate a small town.

Three hours and thousands of innocent victims later, Dominic gets up to make himself another cup of tea. As he reaches for his cup, his eyes fall back on the photograph of Yorke’s portrait. Dominic frowns. As far he can tell, the portrait is most likely from the late 18th or early 19th century. He glances back at the biographical page.

_Recruited 08 September 1514_

The portrait had been painted almost three hundred years after the Type 2’s ‘recruitment’, as they call it.

Dominic stares back at the picture. There is something strangely incongruent about the countless accounts of murder and torture Dominic has just read about in his file, and the gentle expression in the face of the man in the picture. How could such a monster reside behind such utterly human eyes? Then again, Type 2s are masters of deception. This Hal Yorke is probably no exception.

And yet there is something about this Hal that seems to set him apart from other Type 2s. His file suggests that his killing sprees follow some kind of cyclical pattern, interrupted every once in a while by a conspicuous absence, very similar to the recent disappearance Hetty spoke about. An addict in an endless cycle of recovery and relapse.

Dominic smiles grimly and wonders if there is any way of breaking the cycle. He stops by the supplies room and picks up a flask of recently donated blood before exiting the Archive.

***

Dominic parks his Lexus a little way down the road from the house and turns off the engine, watching and waiting. The building, an old B&B called ‘Honolulu Heights’, is recorded as the last known address of #NG157, a Type 3 by the name of Thomas McNair who, together with his now deceased father, Anthony McNair (#UG148), is well known to his department for unknowingly assisting them by killing a long list of dangerous and volatile Type 2s. It is all the more odd to find this very same Type 3 now living at the same address that Hetty gave him for Hal Yorke.

Dominic sighs. He does not wish to have a run in with McNair when he goes to speak to Hal. What he is about to propose to the Type 2 would likely not sit well with his… companion.

As he is sitting there contemplating the best way forward, he notices the front door opening and two figures emerging. One of them, a young man in his early twenties with short-cropped hair and a prominent scar on the side of his head, fits the description of Tom McNair. The other is the living, breathing version of the painting Dominic saw in the photograph in Hal Yorke’s file. The same photograph he is now holding in his hand as he watches the two of them walking down the steps to the pavement.

Hal is slightly taller than McNair and is holding himself up in the sort of graceful elegance of an old-fashioned aristocrat. Dominic realises he does not know anything about Hal’s human background, but assumes that he was of noble birth.

Dominic watches the two supernaturals walking down the pavement for a moment longer before starting his engine and following them a safe way behind as to not attract their attention.

He stops the car and watches Hal and McNair disappearing into the main entrance of the Barry Grand Hotel. Frowning slightly, Dominic leaves his car and crosses the road to follow them inside. The hotel has been a subject of much speculation in his department for a number of years, owing to a series of unexplained suicides taking place there. Dominic is intrigued that the two supernaturals would seek out this very place on the day he is paying them a visit.

In the window next to the entrance, Dominic notices a recruitment sign offering various job opportunities, and he wonders whether this is the reason Hal and McNair have come here. There have been previous cases of Type 2s and 3s taking on regular, often menial type jobs, most famously the Type 2 responsible for case #YF376, who worked as a hospital cleaner in a hospital in Bristol and then later in Barry. Come to think of it, Dominic is almost certain he lived at the very same address as his current subject. The supernatural world, after all, is a small one.

Dominic shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks around the large dining room until his eyes land on the two supernaturals. He takes a seat at a table behind where Hal and McNair are filling out application forms. He orders a cup of tea and sits for a while, listening to Hal and McNair’s conversation.

“I always wanted to work in a hotel,” McNair says. “Ever since me and dad snuck into the Bristol Hilton when I was thirteen. We were hunting a vampire called Radley.”

Hal replies, “Radley? I know a Radley. Big ginger fella?”

McNair nods. “Yeah.”

Hal sounds tense and distracted as he asks, “How was he?”

“Yeah, good, until we killed him obviously.”

It is clear to Dominic that Hal is barely listening to what his companion is saying, but at the same time doing his very best to focus on the conversation in order to distract himself from something else. He absently wonders how long it has been since the Type 2 has fed.

The conversation dies down and the pair are sitting in silence for a moment, before the hotel manager strides up to their table and asks for McNair to follow her.

Dominic’s opportunity has arrived. Without turning around, he stirs his tea, takes a deep breath and says, “When you talk to other vampires, as even you must from time to time, how do you account for your continued anonymity?”

He can feel Hal tensing up behind him. Good, he has his attention.

He continues, “Luck? Skill? Or humanity’s stupidity?”

While speaking, Dominic slowly turns around to face the Type 2 at the other table. He did not expect Hal to turn his head at exactly the same time, but as it is he ends up looking straight into the monster’s eyes. Except, those are not a monster’s eyes. Dominic marvels at how accurately the artist of the portrait had captured the expression in those eyes, although there is a haunted quality to them now that perhaps had not been there at the time of the portrait’s creation.

Dominic cannot bring himself to look away, even as Hal begins to speak. “I know you. The basement of that nightclub a month or so ago. You took my friend’s body. Who are you?”

With some effort, Dominic tears his eyes away from the Type 2 and stands up, bringing some distance between himself and Hal. “My name is Dominic Rook,” he introduces himself. “My job is to maintain the illusion that man is alone. And it has been the job of people like me for hundreds of years.”

There is a degree of hostility in Hal’s voice when he replies, “By telling me all of this, aren’t you rather missing the point of a clandestine organisation?”

Dominic continues, unperturbed by Hal’s cold demeanour. “I have a proposition for you. You are a rare creature, Hal. A human sympathiser with an eminent position in vampire society. It gives us an opportunity. If you were to take charge of the vampires, we could strike an accord between our two worlds.” He sits down at the table across from Hal and looks at the Type 2, awaiting his response.

The look of contempt on Hal’s face has been replaced by self-deprecation when he speaks. “Me?” He huffs. “No, I… I can’t do that.”

Dominic presses on, regardless. He may still be able to change his mind. “In exchange for a cessation of chaos and violence, we will provide you with per diems, premises, and the means to acquire blood consensually.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves the little flask of blood, placing it on the table between them.

Dominic knows he has scored a point immediately when Hal’s eyes fall on the flask in front of him. The Type 2 stares at the dark red liquid in the flask and swallows nervously, even as he looks up at Dominic and says, “I don’t need blood anymore. I’ve been dry for over sixty years.”

Dominic knows this is a lie. Hal is showing all the signs of fairly recent blood withdrawal, and Dominic is not afraid to tell him that he knows. “You’re sweating, Hal. Your hands are shaking.”

Hal takes said hands off the table and buries them in his pockets. There is a moment’s silence, before Hal speaks again, changing the subject. “What happened to my friend’s body?”

Dominic has no idea who he is talking about. “Offhand I don’t recall. Some are returned to their families with an appropriate cover story. Others, we let the families create their own narratives. But if you were to help me, I’m sure I could find-”

“No,” interrupts Hal. “No, that’s… I can’t return to that world.”

Dominic is intrigued by the Type 2’s reluctance. Rarely has he seen one of their kind as determined to stay clean, to stay away from other Type 2s and live a ‘normal life’, never mind one of the Old Ones. Unfortunately, Dominic has seen first-hand what happens if a Type 2 remains clean for too long. They cannot afford another Box Tunnel Massacre.

“I’ve seen vampires try to live a human life before,” he says, looking straight at Hal. “It always ends in tears.”

The Type 2’s eyes are on him, but he does not speak. Dominic realises that he is not getting anywhere with this approach, and decides to change the subject.

“Incidentally,” he says, “we’ve been monitoring this place.” He picks up one of the paper coasters in front of him and starts scribbling down the coordinates of the Archive. “Thirty-seven people have committed suicide here in as many years. As far as we can tell, it’s not werewolf or vampire related, but if you get the job, keep an eye out.” He looks around and adds, “Perhaps it’s the décor.”

He hands Hal the coaster and says, “You can find me here. The Old Ones are gone, Hal. The remaining vampires are rudderless and volatile. We can mould them into any shape we wish.” He is about to get up off his chair as Hal speaks again.

“Trust me, you don’t want to see a world where I’m leading the vampires.”

Dominic considers the Type 2 in front of him for a moment. If he lets himself, he can almost feel the ancient power emanating from him, but rather than unnerved, as he usually is in the presence of such a creature, he finds himself feeling a morbid fascination, almost curiosity towards him.

Startled by his own thoughts, Dominic stands from the table and walks off, leaving the flask of blood for Hal to take.

***

On arrival back at the Archive, Dominic was surprised to find an email from Home Secretary Alistair Frith in his inbox, asking for an urgent meeting the following morning. Dominic remembers thinking how unusual it is for the Home Secretary to take such an interest in his department. He has only been to London less than a month ago, after all. But, he thought to himself, who is he to complain? Maybe Alistair is finally starting to appreciate the important work his department is doing to keep humanity safe.

Now, standing in the Home Secretary’s office, the naivety of his thoughts the previous evening is not lost on him.

Three months is all he has given him. Three months to “decommission the Archive and prepare for succession”, as Alistair put it. His life’s work, everything he has lived and breathed for the last twenty years is to be destroyed, and the responsibility of keeping humanity safe is to be given to Special Branch. Dominic wonders if Alistair is aware what a grave mistake he is making. He understands that there are budget cuts across all services, but his department’s work is essential. Without it, there is going to be chaos, violence and death.

Dominic can only stare as the Home Secretary gets up from his desk and walks towards the door, effectively ending the conversation.

“I’m begging you,” he says, in a last, desperate attempt to change the Home Secretary’s mind. “Please don’t do this.”

Alistair turns around to him, seemingly completely unaffected by his plea. “It’s done,” he says and leaves the room.

Dominic feels like he has landed in a bad dream. This is not really happening, it can’t be. With his department shut down, humanity’s worst nightmares will be roaming free, unrestrained and unregulated.

“Then God help us all,” mutters Dominic to no one in particular as he makes his way out of the Home Secretary’s office and to his car.

***

On the three-hour drive back to Cardiff, Dominic’s thoughts are going into overdrive. There has to be some way that he can prove to the Home Secretary how crucial his department’s work is for the safety of humanity. Every point can be argued when supported by the right evidence. All Dominic has to do is to collect enough evidence to make the Home Secretary reconsider.

By the time he arrives back at the Archive, Dominic has three missed calls on his mobile and a note on his desk saying that there has been a Type 2-related incident at an insurance firm here in Cardiff that requires his immediate attention. Dominic does not even bother to sit down at his desk, instead calling together a team of his best men and leaving for the address left on the post-it note, wondering idly whether the incident has anything to do with the Type 2 he visited yesterday. After all, Barry is only about half an hour away, and after the death of the Old Ones he is not aware of that many other Type 2s residing in South Wales.

His suspicion is confirmed when he steps into the offices of Melville Kane Insurance to find Hal Yorke standing in front of a blood-smeared Type 2, his hands grabbing the latter’s coat and a stake balanced between their two chests. Tom McNair is standing closely behind Hal with his hands on his shoulders, holding him back.

“Why are you doing this?” Hal is asking. There is no reply from McNair, but for some reason Hal does not repeat his question or say anything else.

After a few seconds of silence, McNair reaches between Hal and the other Type 2 and removes the stake. Hal grabs the taller Type 2 by the tie just as McNair asks, “Now what do we do with him?”

“We’ll take care of that,” Dominic says, and all three pairs of eyes in the room come to rest on him. But rather than addressing the three supernaturals directly, Dominic addresses his team. “I want you in police uniforms, we’re using Scenario 4. Evacuate the neighbouring offices, then seal the main entrance. This is a lockdown.”

He starts his stopwatch as his team is jumping into action around him. Hal lets go of the other Type 2’s tie and allows him to be restrained by Dominic’s men. Dominic notes that Hal appears completely unaffected by the crosses his men are wielding while tying up their captive. No one has ever been able to explain to him how the Old Ones manage to become immune to religious symbols, but it is a subject that has always interested him. With only two of the Old Ones left, he may not have much more time to find out. In case Hal should decide to change his mind and take him up on his offer after all, it is definitely a question Dominic will have to ask him.

Dominic is jolted from his thoughts by a ghostly touch against the side of his face. He whirls around to see… absolutely nothing. Dominic frowns, wondering for a split second whether he has imagined it. It felt… almost like lips pressed against his cheek. Dominic opens his mind and searches the room for any remnants of supernatural energy.

He has known for a long time that he possesses some weak psychic abilities. The first time he noticed it was as a boy of eight. It was the Easter holidays. Janine, his nanny, had taken the day off sick, so he ended up accompanying his father to a clean-up operation after a Type 2 attack at a local newsagents. He stood next to a shelf of chocolate bars, trying to stay out of the way of the clean-up team, when he felt a sudden rush of cold energy next to him. He followed the energy into a hidden corner at the back of the shop, where he found another blood-drained victim that his father’s men had missed.

Dominic ran back to his father, telling him about what happened, excited about all the ways his newfound ability could help in fighting the monsters in the future. His father, unfortunately, had not entirely shared his enthusiasm about the prospect. He remained very calm at the scene and assured Dominic that they would talk about it later. Once in the safety of their own four walls, he demonstrated to Dominic in no uncertain terms that he would not accept any son of his meddling in such unnatural nonsense. Dominic had to wear Janine’s concealer to school for a week afterwards.

Ever since that day, Dominic has known not to flaunt his abilities at the workplace and, as a result, has never learned how to fully channel his psychic powers. He does, however, have a weak sense of a presence of a Type 1 in a room if he opens his mind sufficiently, which is why he is able to locate the ghostly presence in the offices of Melville Kane Insurance while his men are still busy cleaning up the Type 2’s mess.

Dominic follows the Type 1 around the office for a moment, wondering whether it is the ghost of the Type 2’s victim, but then something strange happens. Hal and McNair get up from where they have been waiting – what are they waiting for, anyway? – and walk past where Dominic last sensed the Type 1’s presence. He can briefly see Hal’s hand reaching out and grabbing what appears to be thin air as he walks past, and then the Type 1 seems to follow the other two supernaturals to the exit.

Before they can leave, the other Type 2, a newly turned specimen by the name of Ian Cram, by now restrained by generous amounts of tape and a cross, addresses Hal. “Round and round in circles, like you said. This is where you’ll end up. On a pile of bodies with a hard-on. As sure as eggs is eggs.” Cram laughs. Hal has his back turned to him, but even without seeing his face, Dominic can see the slump of his shoulders and the small shake of his head as he turns and leaves the office.

He thinks back over what he read in Henry Yorke’s file about the cyclical nature of the Type 2’s killing sprees, interspersed again and again with absences of ten, twenty, forty years at a time in which he appears to abstain from drinking blood completely, just to be followed by another massacre at the end of it. Dominic once again finds himself wondering if there is a way to break the cycle, or if the Old One is destined to continue this strangely fragmented existence until he finds his inevitable demise.

He frowns and briefly wonders why this Type 2 seems to be taking up quite so much of his head space in these last couple of days. With a deep breath, he steps into the manager’s office.

***

Ten minutes later, leaving the offices of Melville Kane Insurance, Dominic is wondering whether driving his favourite pen into the man’s eye socket has been a bit of an overreaction. Then again, he threatened to get the press involved, to expose supernaturals to the world. And after all, it has always been his job to keep the secret things secret.

 _A gagging order would have done the job just fine_ , a little voice speaks up at the back of his mind. It would have, yes, but it wouldn’t have felt quite so final, so definite. And after the day he has been having, is there really anyone who could blame him?

 _The man was human_ , the voice speaks up again. Yes, he was, and the irony of it is not lost on Dominic. That he took the monster captive and killed the human witness. Yet, Ian Cram may still be of use to him. It would have made no sense to kill the newly turned Type 2 on the spot. It’s not how his department operates.

If nothing else, Dominic thinks, he would really like to ask Cram some questions about his maker, and what on Earth was the matter with that stake.


	2. Memories of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic bites his lip. 'You’re a vampire, aren’t you?' 
> 
> Joey’s head shoots up. 'How did you know that?'
> 
> 'Just the way you were talking. About the monster taking hold of you. When you talk like that, it sounds like you’re a vampire. But,' he adds, frowning, 'you seem nice. I didn’t think vampires could be nice.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Chapter 1, this is another setup chapter, which explores a bit more of Dominic's background. 
> 
> This chapter contains excerpts from Rookileaks 1 and dialogue that has been taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 2 “Sticks and Rope”.

Time is never time at all  
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth  
And our lives are forever changed  
We will never be the same  
The more you change the less you feel

\- The Smashing Pumpkins, “Tonight, Tonight”

  
Dominic’s fist comes down hard on his desk, only narrowly missing the laptop that sits on it. Alistair did not even bother to email him back in person, instead he got his _assistant_ to speak to him, as if Dominic is some lowly admin officer, rather than the head of an official, if secret, government department. ‘Dominic’ he called him, as if he has any right to address him by that name.

Dominic opens a new email and addresses it to the Home Secretary directly. Not in a million years is he going to correspond with that audacious prick.

With a sideways glance at the thick envelope lying in his ‘Out’ tray, Dominic begins to type.

_Alistair,_

_My report on the deadly incident at Melville Kane Insurance, Cardiff (#PG158, Type 2) has just left my hands and is on its way to your office. I fear that recent developments might make you less likely to prioritise such a document. With respect, this would be foolish in the extreme._

Dominic quickly reads over and spell-checks what he has written, then adds a further note on his department’s premise to protect all life from supernaturals. Alistair will not be able to keep his eyes closed to the truth forever, not when it is so glaringly obvious.

He quickly signs his email and hits ‘Send’. Now, it is time to make a phone call.

Dominic stands from his desk, picking up his phone and keying in the number Alan handed him earlier on a post-it note. He starts walking as the dial tone rings. It rings four times before someone picks up at the other end.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

Dominic decides friendly and reassuring will work best in this circumstance. “Mrs Davies? My name is Dominic Rook, I work for South Wales Police.”

“The police? What is this about? Is this about Ian?” Sharon Davies sounds equal parts perplexed and worried.

Dominic puts all the sympathy he can muster into his voice when he replies, “Yes, Mrs Davies, this is about Ian.”

“Oh my God, is he all right? I tried to call him all evening yesterday. He was supposed to babysit Lily, you see, but he didn’t turn up, didn’t answer his phone… It’s not like him, you see, not like him at all!” Mrs Davies says frantically.

Dominic inwardly rolls his eyes, smiles and says, “Yes, Mrs Davies, he is fine now. Unfortunately, Ian was involved in a fight at his workplace yesterday.” A sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. He continues, “It looks like he was under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs when he attacked one of his co-workers.”

“Oh my God,” she says again. “Drugs? But Ian never… he never would have taken anything… he’s not that kind of person. There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

Dominic sighs and says, “I’m very sorry, Mrs Davies. The blood test results are unmistakable. The exact circumstances of how your brother got hold of the drugs is still under investigation. He is currently recovering from the effects.”

Mrs Davies’ voice is very small when she asks, “Is he all right? Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you, just to know what happened, you know? I just didn’t know what to think.”

“Of course,” Dominic says, “You must have been worried sick. As I said, he’s fine, just a little disorientated.”

“Oh…” Mrs Davies seems to have a hard time taking all of it in. “Can I see him?”

That is exactly what Dominic has been hoping for. “Yes,” he answers. “A friendly face would help no—”

“I’ll be on my way then,” Mrs Davies interjects.

“Excellent,” Dominic says with a smile. The pieces are all falling together beautifully. He will send a car to collect her and bring her to the Archive, and the interview room will be ready for them. Ready for him to collect the evidence he so desperately needs to convince the Home Secretary to reconsider.

Turning around and seeing the pale and slightly sick expression on his assistant, Alan’s, face, he feels a minute twinge in his gut at what he is about to do. Not a full day has gone by since he stabbed Ian Cram’s boss with a pen, and now he is about to not just stand by, but to actively arrange another human death by the hands of the Type 2 in his custody. What is happening to him? Is he taking matters too far?

But desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say, and these are desperate times indeed.

“His sister is on her way,” he says to Alan, none of the doubt he is feeling evident in his voice. “I’ll prepare our guest.”

He steps into the large room where Ian Cram, or Crumb as he has started calling himself, is detained in one of the holding cells.

“Mr Crumb,” he addresses the captive Type 2. “How are we feeling today?”

Crumb is showing all the obvious signs of blood withdrawal. He is sweaty and pale, pacing frantically in his cell and looks about ready to tear Dominic’s very own throat out as soon as he lays eyes on him.

Crumb tells him in no uncertain terms that he ‘needs to feed’ and ‘real blooming soon’, and Dominic cringes at the hysterical way the Type 2 is acting. Blood addiction, as some Type 2s who have gone clean like to call it, is worse than any drug addiction known to man. It turns previously sane and sensible human beings like Ian Cram into rambling lunatics, turns harmless family men and women into bloodthirsty monsters. Dominic cannot imagine a worse fate for anyone.

But be that as it may, the human that was once Ian Cram is no more, and before him now stands Crumb, the monster, and the monster is going to help him save his department.

Dominic explains to Crumb that he needs him for a job, and instructs the cell guard to unlock the cell and leave Crumb in his custody. He distantly wonders how likely it would be that Crumb attacks him or the guard on the way to the interview room, but disregards his fear almost as soon as it arises. Despite their debilitating addiction, Type 2s are not mindless animals. Crumb is too eager to be appreciated to bite the hand that, quite literally, feeds him.

He leads Crumb down the corridor to the interview room, where Alan is waiting for them. Alan looks tense and uneasy, and Dominic can tell it is not just the proximity of the Type 2 that causes his emotional response. While he is preparing Crumb for his task, he senses Alan next to him, growing more anxious by the minute.

“Sorry,” he finally addresses him. “I need to speak to you.”

“For God’s sake, Alan, what is it?” Dominic snaps. He does not have time for this right now.

“She’s brought her daughter.” Alan speaks slowly and deliberately, and the meaning of it sinks into the pit of Dominic’s stomach like a rock. This is not part of the plan. Crumb was supposed to attack his sister. As regretful as it would be, it could be written off as collateral damage, a means to an end. The presence of an innocent little girl in the interview room changes the game considerably.

Dominic looks past Alan through the small circular window into the interview room, where there is a woman in her late thirties, sitting next to a girl of about ten.

Another little girl, a few years younger, suddenly flashes in his mind’s eye. Scared and timid, a tiny hand reaching out for his own, holding on to him like a lifeline. _Close your eyes. Don’t look at the monsters._

Dominic can feel a thin layer of sweat collecting on his brow. Crumb is looking at him expectantly. There is no way back, and he knows it.

Plastering a tense smile onto his face, he speaks to Crumb as much as to himself when he says, “We must be resolute. We must think of the greater good.” The greater good. Video footage of Crumb killing his sister and niece may well be the evidence he needs to keep his department going, to save the country from chaos and death. It is what needs to be done.

With fake conviction emboldening his moves, Dominic opens the door to the interview room and pushes Crumb inside, throwing the door shut behind him before he has a chance to change his mind.

***

Opening the door to his empty flat that evening, Dominic is replaying these strange and eventful few days in his mind. He drove down to London only yesterday, full of hope and anticipation for the Home Secretary’s plans for his department, just to have it thrown back in his face in the worst possible way. He picked up a newly turned Type 2 after an incident at the creature’s former work place, and who else to be responsible for the monster’s creation but the elusive Hal Yorke himself. While the Old One is still evading him and his offer for collaboration, Dominic instead used his monstrous offspring to create a case study to present to the Home Secretary on his next visit to London next week.

He brought about the death of three innocent humans in the process.

Dominic hangs up his suit jacket on the wardrobe and makes his way into the kitchen. He has a quick look in the fridge for something edible, and finds a plastic container with yesterday’s takeaway of choice – sweet and sour chicken. He transfers the food onto a plate and chucks it in the microwave. It will have to do. He certainly isn’t in the mood for cooking anything tonight.

Dominic’s thoughts return to the conversation he had with Crumb shortly after the Type 2 had been brought into the Archive.

_“Mr Crumb, why don’t you start by telling me everything you know about the vampire who turned you?” he asks. For some reason, Hal Yorke has been at the forefront of his mind ever since he sought out the Type 2 the previous day. It certainly couldn’t hurt to get as much information about him as possible, and who better to ask than his latest “recruit”._

_“Hal?” Crumb asks dumbly._

_“Yes, Hal.” Dominic gives the Type 2 a tense but hopefully encouraging smile._

_“I don’t know much about him. He attacked me in the street! Took me back to his house and tied me to a radiator.” Crumb seems less than happy with the way Hal has treated him, and Dominic frowns. It does not fit with the image of the Old One he has built up in his mind._

_“Did he now?” he wonders out loud._

_Crumb nods. “Yes. Said something about how it was for my own good…”_

_Now_ that _Dominic is able to believe. “You say he tied you to a radiator?”_

_Crumb nods._

_“How did you get out?”_

_“His housemate came home, found me in the basement and freed me. Then I went back to work, and that’s where you found me.” He giggles. Dominic rolls his eyes at the 6’1” bloodsucking monster giggling like a schoolgirl._

_“Did Hal… tell you anything else before he left you in the basement?” he asks, getting back on target._

_“Told me how he was a vampire but he didn’t drink blood – I thought that was kinda lame at the time. I mean what’s the point of it if you can’t… you know. Then he showed me my reflection. Well, lack of. Thought it was a trick at first, but he said that it wasn’t. That it was the Devil taking my soul or some crap.”_

_“The Devil?” This is news to Dominic. Never in the many years of working for the department has he heard mention of the actual Devil._

_“Yeah. Said that the curse came from the Devil, and in return for giving us this life, he was taking our souls. That’s why we don’t have a reflection.”_

The microwave beeps, jolting Dominic from his thoughts and alerting him that his food is done. He takes the plate out but doesn’t bother taking it through to the dining room. Instead he jumps up and sits on the counter, feet dangling, and balances the plate on his lap while he eats.

Looking up, he catches his own reflection in the shiny glass door of the oven. Taking a mouthful of his sweet and sour, he wonders idly what it must be like to not be able to see your own reflection. How strange and disconcerting it must feel to wake up and look in the mirror, just to see an empty room. Then he frowns at his own thought. Type 2s don’t think like people any more, they certainly don’t _feel_ the same way people do. The point he is contemplating is futile.

Dominic quickly finishes his dinner without really tasting it, jumps off the counter and washes up the plate. Then he pours himself a glass of whiskey and makes his way through to his study, starting up his laptop. One new email. Dominic opens the message and curses at yet another nondescript reply from Alistair’s personal assistant.

He has to make him see somehow. Certainly, the footage collected today of Crumb’s brutal murder of his sister and niece will be helpful for his cause, but standing on its own, it will likely not have the impact Dominic is hoping for. He thinks for a moment about other significant cases he worked on over the last few years, and begins to write.

_Alistair,_

_As you will not meet on this matter in person, I will send you précis of some of our cases from the past few years. It is vital that you understand what the DoDD has been achieving, quietly and consistently, for centuries._

_Since yesterday’s incident was a T2 attack, let’s begin with another notable T2 case._

_Bristol, 2009. A twelve-year-old boy was brutally murdered and recruited by a notorious Type 2. This T2, one of the very worst of its kind and known to be over one hundred years of age, is also thought to be responsible for Case #YF376 (the Bristol train massacre, aka The Box Tunnel 20). Before we could take the recruited child into custody, the T2 helped him flee Bristol in the company of Fleur, the child’s grieving mother. It is my understanding that the older T2 threatened the woman’s life if she would not accompany her “son”, though sadly it is not unknown for humans to remain attached to the monsters who have replaced their loved ones._

Crumb’s face flashes before his eyes. The expression on the Type 2’s face after Dominic locked him in the interview room, after he realised the inevitable truth of what he was about to do. Dominic has always worked on the assumption that once the monster takes control of the person’s soul, the person inside is lost, consumed by the monster.

Yet in that moment, it wasn’t Crumb, the vampire, looking back at him through the small circular window. It was Ian Cram, the human, brother, and uncle of the two people locked in the room with him. Like in that short moment, the monster took the back seat, like the person was still in there somewhere, fighting for control. The thought is almost more terrifying than the alternative.

Disconcerted once again by his own thoughts, Dominic returns to his email. He gives Alistair a detailed account of the child Type 2s residing in Yorkshire and stresses the essential work his department is doing in containing the situation.

After finishing his email, Dominic downs the last of his whiskey and decides that he might try and get a few hours’ sleep.

***

_Dominic does nothing to hide the sulk from his face as he sits, legs swinging, in the too tall chair, waiting for Arthur, the archivist, to come back. Arthur has gone to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea for himself and a glass of orange juice for Dominic. No doubt he will settle behind his desk and bore Dominic to death with another one of his watered-down tales of ruthless monsters and faceless, grey-clad heroes saving the day._

_Dominic sighs and pushes himself off the chair. He has no intention of being bored to death on his tenth birthday._

_He idly wonders if his father even told Arthur it is his birthday when he asked the archivist to babysit him while he himself went off on some big clean-up over in Newport._

_He wonders if his father even remembered._

_Dominic stalks aimlessly along the endless, narrow corridors, exploring the Archive on his own for the first time. He knows that there is more to it than the endless rows of files and boxes his father let him see. If nothing else, there is Bobby, a living, breathing werewolf some ten years older than himself. Bobby was the first supernatural he met, years ago, a lump of fear in his throat as his father introduced him to the monster. Bobby smiled and asked him about his favourite football club._

_Dominic comes to a stop in front of a closed door at the bottom of a flight of stairs. He hesitates only briefly before pushing the door experimentally, surprised when it swings open before him. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, briefly wondering where everyone is. Then he remembers that his father has taken the majority of staff with him to the clean-up, and that the Archive is operating on skeleton staff only. He steps through the door into the large room. To his left, there are two cells divided from the main room by metal bars. At the back of one of the cells, sitting on the floor with his head resting on his knees, is a young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen. At Dominic’s approach, he lifts his head and looks at him with tearful eyes._

_“You’re not one of the guards,” he says._

_Dominic rolls his eyes. Talk about stating the obvious._

_“What are you doing down here?” the young man asks._

_Dominic doesn’t know what to say to that, so he asks a question of his own instead. “Who are you?”_

_The young man stares at him for a moment before replying, “My name is Joey. Well, that was my name anyway.” Something dark creeps into his voice when he says the last bit, and Dominic’s brow furrows._

_“Is it not your name anymore?”_

_Joey smiles sadly. “I don’t really know who… what I am anymore.”_

_Dominic steps closer to the cell, curiosity piqued at the strange young man inside._

_Joey visibly tenses and jumps to his feet, pressing his back against the wall. “Don’t come any closer, please!” he says, eyes wide and terrified._

_“Why not?” Dominic asks, but stays where he is just in case._

_“I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_Dominic frowns. “Why would you hurt me? You seem nice.”_

_Joey laughs, an unexpectedly harsh sound. “I’m not nice. I mean, I’ve done… things that are not nice. I… I’ve done some pretty bad things.” He trails off, seemingly lost in thought._

_“You didn’t answer my question though,” says Dominic. “Why would you want to hurt me? I haven’t done anything to you.”_

_Joey regards him for a moment, warily, then seems to relax and sits back down, cross-legged, on the floor. “No, you haven’t done anything to me. But neither had my mum and dad and my sister before I… I mean, it’s not something I want to do. It just… I’m just not strong enough to fight it. It takes hold of me and I… lose myself, I guess.”_

_“What does?” asks Dominic._

_“The monster. The monster inside of me.” He gives a short, embarrassed laugh as if suddenly realising that he is oversharing. “Sorry.”_

_Dominic bites his lip. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”_

_Joey’s head shoots up. “How did you know that?”_

_“Just the way you were talking. About the monster taking hold of you. When you talk like that, it sounds like you’re a vampire. But,” he adds, frowning, “you seem nice. I didn’t think vampires could be nice.”_

_Joey shrugs. “We’re just like normal people, I guess.”_

_Dominic doesn’t reply straight away, but looks at Joey for a very long time. Then he sits down on the floor in front of the cell, crossing his legs, subconsciously mirroring Joey’s position, and asks, “So, do you support Cardiff City?”_

_Joey seems surprised, but not unhappy, about the sudden change in Dominic’s attitude towards him. The two boys sit for what feels like hours, discussing football, music and even, to a much lesser extent, girls. Dominic has to admit that he is not able to contribute all that much to that part of the conversation, but he nods and hums politely as Joey tells him about the pretty blonde who used to sit next to him in science class._

_Dominic is laughing at the awkwardness of Joey recalling their first date, when all of a sudden the door swings open and one of his father’s colleagues, a sour looking man by the name of John, steps into the room. Dominic’s head shoots up at his name being called._

_“Dominic, your father has been looking all over for you! What were you thinking coming down here?”_

_Dominic jumps to his feet. “I’m really sorry sir, I was just exploring the Archive and I found my way down here-”_

_“Exploring?” John’s voice is tense with a tinge of panic. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to just go wandering around this place? There are monsters in here!” He gestures vaguely towards Joey._

_“I’ve been careful,” says Dominic in a small voice. He knows better than to argue with his father’s men. Everything he says will be relayed back to his father._

_John snorts. “Careful. Wait until your father hears that you’ve been down here… consorting with a Type 2. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes tonight.”_

_Two hours later, sitting on the expensive leather sofa in the living room of his father’s house, Dominic thoroughly regrets ever having entered that room._

_“What was that you said, son?” his father is looming over him with a furious expression contorting his face._

_“I said he seemed nice,” Dominic mumbles, looking at his hands. “I had a good time talking to him.” Then, in a rare act of defiance, he looks up at his father. “You told me Type 2s are not people, that they can’t think and feel like people do. But Joey was doing all of that. He told me about this girl he liked at school, and he-”_

_The hand connecting with his cheekbone cuts him off mid-sentence._

_“Type 2s are_ not _people Dominic. They are vicious monsters, and I will not tolerate my son associating with creatures like that.”_

_Dominic’s hand flies up to cover his burning cheek. Tears are springing into his eyes, and he wipes them away hastily, angry and embarrassed. He raises his eyes to once again look at his father. “I think you’re wrong.”_

_His father does not say anything more. He doesn’t need to, because the hand connecting with his face and the leather belt coming down on his back and his buttocks are sending a clear enough message. Dominic tries in vain to protect himself, to hold his hands up against the oncoming storm that is his father’s rage, but he knows that it is useless. He is a boy of ten, spending the later hours of his birthday being beaten to a shivering wreck, and there is nothing he can do to stop it._

Dominic awakes with a start. He is breathing hard and his heart is pounding in his chest. The dream was so realistic, it almost felt like he had travelled back in time. He has not thought about Joey for over 25 years. The day after he had ‘taught his son a lesson’, rumour has it that Geoffrey Rook paid a personal visit to the Type 2 cell block, leaving a short time later with a blooded stake. That was the last anyone had ever seen or heard of the young Type 2 being held there at the time.

Why is he suddenly reliving these long-forgotten memories? Lying in bed and catching his breath, Dominic tries hard to remember Joey’s face. In the dream, mere seconds ago, the face of the Type 2 had been so clear in front of him, but now, try as he might, he cannot conjure up the young man’s features. Instead, his mind supplies him with a different Type 2. Hal Yorke’s face materialises in his mind’s eye as clear as day, all handsome aristocratic features and ancient hazel eyes.

Dominic shakes himself and sits up. He doesn’t understand what has been wrong with him lately, but he better get ready for work.


	3. Day Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic is half expecting to see his life flashing before his eyes or something equally clichéd, but there is nothing other than the quiet _tick tick tick_ of the stopwatch. Light streams in through the large window, but there is no movement of shadows on the wall, nothing alive, nothing real. Just a stark and strangely impersonal room, his belongings on the desk the only sign that someone is living here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to say a big Thank You to everyone who has been reading this up until this point. It has a pretty slow start, but I promise things will heat up fairly quickly from this point onwards. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing the first part of this chapter, as Rook's scenes in Episode 3 have always been among my favourites of Series 5. 
> 
> This chapter contains dialogue taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 3 "Pie and Prejudice", and Episode 4 "The Greater Good".

Here I am again, what a time to be alone  
The void and empty space as darkness overcomes  
I think that I will wake in a body of stone  
Banging on the door, calling on the phone

\- Feeder, “Infrared-Ultraviolet”

  
It is all futile.

Dominic showed Alistair the footage of Crumb massacring his sister and niece, and the man acted like he was watching some kind of badly written B movie.

Dominic drove back to London in a haze, and started straight away to pack up the contents of his office. He feels like everything is happening on autopilot, like he has been stripped of the ability to think or act independently.

Arthur popped his head in the door at one point, clearly concerned about his strange behaviour.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“No, Arthur,” he heard himself reply. “It’s over. We have lost.”

Arthur took a long look around the room, then nodded. “I take it he didn’t reconsider.”

Dominic just shook his head. All of a sudden, he was feeling strangely vulnerable, and he didn't like it one bit. With a cold, clipped voice, he said, “If you don’t mind, Arthur, I have things to do.”

“Of course, sir.” And without another word, the man was gone.

Now, half an hour later, Dominic is sitting behind his desk, his life’s work packed up in boxes and plastic bags, stacked on trolleys to be taken away. The radio is on, the newsreader talking about the government cuts. Suddenly he can’t take it anymore. All the pent-up rage inside of him at the unfairness of the situation bursts forth, and he flings the radio on the floor. It stutters and crackles, but still it keeps talking. Dominic jumps up off his chair and starts stomping on the device, kicking and kicking until all he can see is small pieces of metal and plastic strewn across the floor.

There is nothing for him now. The department is finished. He is finished. It is over.

Dominic catches his breath, retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket. Briefly, he considers calling a familiar number. The one number in his contacts that is not work-related. Well, not directly, anyway. But then he stops. What would he say to her? She doesn’t need to hear about how he has failed, how he will no longer be able to keep her safe. She is better off without him in her life.

He tucks the phone away in his pocket, picks up his stopwatch from the desk, and makes his way out of the Archive to his car. He drives for a long time, aimlessly, just watching the people as he passes, going about their business as if nothing is wrong with the world. As if there weren’t monsters roaming the streets at this very moment.

Before he knows it, Dominic finds himself parked outside his flat. He makes his way inside, picking up the mail off the floor in the hallway. A couple of bills and a free newspaper. He glances at the newspaper briefly but has no intention of reading any more on budget cuts and department closures. A flyer falls out of the paper, and Dominic turns it over in his hands. The phone number jumps out at him in big pink digits, and Dominic is overtaken by the sudden urge to call it, to connect with someone, another human being. He pours himself a glass of whisky, perches on the windowsill in his office and dials.

“Hi,” a female voice answers. “This is Amanda. I’m so happy you’ve called. Are you after some company?”

Dominic hates the way she stresses the word ‘company’. He swallows and says, “I just want to talk. I… need someone to listen.”

“Sure. I’m always happy to listen.”

Amanda’s voice is encouraging and he begins. He tells her about his situation, about the loss he feels at his department’s closure. That he has nothing, no one, to fill the void. He has never felt like he needed anyone, and more than that, he convinced himself that caring about someone else would make him weak, make him a target, and he cannot afford that in his line of work.

Amanda asks him about his job, and he starts with the usual lie he tells everyone. “Civil service. Very dull.”

Then he thinks about it and decides that it doesn’t matter anymore. The lies are unnecessary now. His department is gone, it is all over.

He starts again. “Well, that was what I always said. But it was something of a lie. My job was covert and dangerous. It required me to commit acts that will haunt me until the day I die.”

Images of Ian Cram’s sister and niece flash before his eyes. The desperate, broken look on Ian’s face before the monster contorted it with black eyes and sharp fangs.

“All in the name of holding back the tide. And if we simply step aside now and allow that tide to wash over the world, then all my sacrifice has been for nothing. All those deaths have been for nothing! Do you understand?”

There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and Dominic wonders if he has gone too far with his strange confession. Then, Amanda speaks up again, “Would you like me to tell you what I’m wearing?”

Dominic sighs and leans back, bringing his legs up on the windowsill. So much for connecting with another person. “Why not,” he says. “Why not.”

He listens to her talking, giving the occasional reply, but he doesn’t feel it. He never has. It isn't the first time he has tried something like this, or stolen his father’s porn magazines when he was younger, but it has just never done anything for him. Dominic has told himself that it is just as well, that he is better off not giving in to those desires, or – heaven forbid – forming any emotional attachments. But it puzzles him all the same.

He hangs up the phone and takes another sip of whisky. The liquid burns his throat, and it is the first thing he consciously feels since he left Alistair’s office that morning. It’s like his life is now largely devoid of feeling, devoid of purpose.

He can’t even connect with another human being in the most basic way.

Dominic picks up the empty glass and the whiskey bottle and pours himself another generous measure. He sits down in his desk chair, staring into space, and thinks about what options he has got left. His department is lost, he knows that now. No amount of begging and pleading is going to make a blind bit of difference. His department is lost, and the world is going to slip into chaos, and he, Dominic Rook, is going to sit here, alone in this big, empty flat, to watch humanity fall.

For the first time in his life, Dominic feels fiercely, desperately lonely.

***

The glass of whisky was followed by another, and then another, and at some point the following morning Dominic finds himself passed out on top of the covers on his bed with his suit still on. He gets up, trying to ignore the pounding headache and slight wave of nausea at the movement, picks out a clean suit from his wardrobe, goes to the bathroom to shower, shave and brush his teeth. He sits down at his desk and carefully sets down his grandfather’s old set of poker dice, his key card, note book, pen, phone and wallet in a neat line. All the things that used to be so important to him, that symbolised the purpose of his life up until this moment.

He puts down his stopwatch and opens the uppermost drawer in his desk. His father’s old revolver is just where he left it. Why he has been keeping it in his desk drawer all these years is a bit of a mystery to him, but maybe it has been waiting there all this time for this precise moment. The metal feels cold and heavy in his hand as he picks it up. He checks the magazine. The gun is still fully loaded.

Dominic places the gun on the desk and presses the button on the stopwatch. The seconds start ticking by as he picks up the revolver and places it against his temple.

Dominic is half expecting to see his life flashing before his eyes or something equally clichéd, but there is nothing other than the quiet _tick tick tick_ of the stopwatch. Light streams in through the large window, but there is no movement of shadows on the wall, nothing alive, nothing real. Just a stark and strangely impersonal room, his belongings on the desk the only sign that someone is living here.

30, 31, 32

Dominic’s eyes follow the hand of the stopwatch eating away the seconds of the last minute of his life with clinical precision. He briefly wonders what will be waiting for him on the other side. If there is one thing his job has taught him, it is that there is some kind of an afterlife. But Dominic is not a religious man, and he has never wasted a lot of time thinking about that kind of thing.

55, 56, 57

Dominic braces himself as the seconds draw nearer. It is almost time.

58, 59, 60

His finger starts pulling the trigger.

The sound of his ringtone is so bizarre in the complete silence of the room that Dominic thinks he is hallucinating for a moment. But the phone continues to ring.

His hand is shaking as he lowers the revolver and reaches across the desk to pick up his phone, baffled at who might be calling him now.

“Hello?” he asks cautiously.

Never in a million years would he have expected to hear Hal Yorke’s voice on the other end of the line. “I believe I have some work for you.”

Dominic feels like a drowning man breaking through the water’s surface as he replies, “I’ll be right over.”

He is needed. His expertise is required to deal with a supernatural incident. It doesn’t even matter to Dominic at that moment what the actual situation is. What is important is that he has work to do.

***

Dominic parks the car outside the B&B and makes his way up the path to the door. Ringing the doorbell, he feels a nervous flutter in his stomach. It feels good to be back in action.

The nervous flutter intensifies when the door swings open and Hal Yorke is standing in front of him.

“Thank you for coming,” he says tensely and beckons Dominic to follow him inside.

Dominic isn’t sure what he expected a supernatural house share between a Type 2 and a Type 3 to look like, but this certainly isn’t it. Apparently, the occupants decided to keep the original Hawaiian theme of the B&B, complete with a tiki bar in the living room and a large Hawaiian wall mural, alongside loud old-fashioned wallpapers and mismatched furniture. In the middle of it all, there is the body of a sturdy, middle-aged man, strangulated with the cable of a table lamp.

Dominic crouches down and takes a closer look at the body. The cable is still wrapped around the victim’s neck. There are no visible bite marks, scratch marks or other signs of a struggle. The man’s tongue is lolling out of his mouth in a grotesque way, a sure sign that he was indeed strangled to death.

Dominic looks up from the body to see Hal watching him silently. The Type 2 looks fidgety and uncomfortable, and it occurs to Dominic that he is most likely the perpetrator of the crime. He isn’t quite sure why that thought troubles him so much.

“Human?” he asks into the uncomfortable silence.

Hal shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Werewolf.”

“Ah.” He nods. Struggles between Type 2s and Type 3s are common, of course, and it does explain the rather unusual murder weapon.

Dominic takes out his phone and dials the Archive. It rings six times before someone picks up. They are probably all busy packing their stuff.

“Mr Rook.” It is Daniel, one of the last men he recruited before… before the end.

“Daniel. I need a van and three men sent immediately to 8 Coastview Road in Barry.” He just hopes that the vans haven’t been decommissioned yet. “I have a body here to be picked up. Type 3.”

“But sir,” Daniel says, sounding confused, “I thought we were told not to take on any more active cases.”

“Send me that van, Daniel.” His voice is icy and he carefully stresses every word. This is not the time to be messing with him.

Daniel sounds flustered when he replies, “Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Thank you.” He ends the call and puts the phone back into his pocket. Then he gets to his feet and faces Hal.

“I will have to ask you to tell me what happened.”

Hal looks like a deer in the headlights. He swallows multiple times and clears his throat nervously before answering, “He was… an acquaintance of Tom’s. Tom met him at the hotel and before we knew it, he had more or less moved in.” He pauses and looks straight into Dominic’s eyes. “Turns out he was… not a very nice man. He was a threat to us, to what we have built for ourselves here. So I ended it.”

“I see.” Dominic finds himself transfixed by Hal’s eyes on him. This Type 2 who, less than an hour ago, quite literally saved his life. What is it that sets this monster apart from the rest?

“Mr Rook?” Hal asks, mildly puzzled, and Dominic blinks and looks away, locking his eyes on the Type 3’s body instead.

“What was his name?” he asks, business-like, voice only wavering very slightly.

“Larry Chrysler.”

Dominic frowns. “The weather presenter?” He thought the man looked familiar.

Hal nods. “Yes.”

Dominic’s frown deepens. “I didn’t realise he was a Type 3.”

“I believe he was only turned a short while ago. Didn’t seem to know much about being a werewolf.”

“Huh.” So a well-known BBC weather presenter turns out to be a Type 3. The monsters really are everywhere.

The doorbell rings, and Hal all but flees from the room to answer it. Dominic looks after him as he goes. Despite being restless and nervous, Hal doesn’t have the look of recent blood withdrawal about him that he had the first time they met. Dominic wonders idly whether the reason for this is the flask he left for him, or the Type 2 adjusting to being clean. Or, indeed, whether Hal is killing again. Dominic quickly dismisses the last option. He has not heard about any Type 2-related deaths in the area recently.

Hal steps back into the living room, followed by three of Dominic’s men. Dominic greets them quickly, then fishes his stopwatch from his jacket pocket.

“All right then, gentlemen, I expect this to take no more than forty seconds.” He presses the stopwatch and has a sudden flashback to his study at home, cold metal pressed against his temple. He closes his eyes. _No. Focus. You have a job to do._

“Finished, sir,” one of the men announces, and Dominic’s finger almost automatically stops the watch.

“Thirty-eight seconds. Well done, gentlemen.”

“Why do you do that?” Hal asks from where he is standing next to the sofa. Dominic looks over to see the Type 2 watching him.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Time the clean-up. Surely you’re not under that much time pressure, especially not now that—”

“No,” Dominic interrupts before Hal can finish the sentence. “But it’s something I have always done, and I’m not going to stop now. Efficiency is essential in our work.”

Hal nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He looks slightly more relaxed now the body is tucked away in a body bag and in the process of being carried outside by Dominic’s men.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

Dominic gives a brisk nod and replies, “Consider it a favour, Hal.” _A favour that one day might be repaid_ , goes unsaid. And if there is a small voice at the back of Dominic’s mind that argues that it already has been, in the biggest possible way, he chooses to ignore it.

“Of course,” Hal says, indicating that he understands.

***

Dominic idly stirs sugar into his tea as he opens up the email programme on his laptop. He never used to use sugar at all – it detracts from the delicate flavour of the tea and drowns everything in a sea of saccharinity. Nowadays he barely tastes anything anymore. Ever since what Dominic has for some uncharacteristically sentimental reason come to refer to as Day Zero, the world has been blunted somehow. Colours are less bright, sounds less sharp. Food tastes like cardboard and tea like water. The sugar brings some life back into the blandness of it, and he is grateful for that.

For a moment, standing in the living room of Honolulu Heights, he felt that old excitement, the exhilaration that only his work could ever award him with. He was back in action and it felt wonderful.

As soon as he opened the door to his empty flat, spotted the revolver still lying, discarded and forgotten, on his desk, it all came crashing down. He poured himself a generous double shot of whiskey and retreated to his bedroom, not to re-emerge until well after sunrise the next morning. Most uncharacteristic indeed.

The one thing he can count on, that stands in his mind seemingly unaffected by the grey veil that seems to cover everything else, is a familiar face that has started to haunt his waking mind. Hal Yorke’s face, hazel eyes on him, a _Thank you_ for a job well done. His voice on the phone, tense and strangely reticent, _I believe I have some work for you_.

Dominic briefly closes his eyes, willing the thoughts away. They are not helping. If he has any chance to come out the other end of this dark mood, he will have to work for it. Save his department. Continue his work. Without it, there is nothing, and life doesn’t make sense anymore.

A glance at the screen tells him that there are three unread emails in his inbox. The first one is from an anonymous source, most likely an ex-employee of his, who has been picking up on an unusual pattern of disappearances in the Cardiff area over the last month. _The evidence points to supernatural involvement, most likely Type 2,_ the sender concludes. _If you are still in any position to do so, it would be prudent to investigate these incidents. They are expertly covered up, and I suspect that one of the perpetrators might be of our own ranks._

A truly fascinating turn of events. Dominic has a suspicion as to which one of his men may have switched sides, but it turns his stomach to think about it. To subject oneself to the curse so deliberately, after all the training they have received and all the horrifying realities they have observed just doing their day-to-day jobs. Then again, Alan has always been an ill fit for the department. Too emotionally involved.

Dominic frowns and moves on to the next message. British Gas informing him that the gas and electricity at the facility located at CF64 8AS will be switched off by the 20th of the month. Dominic’s eyes widen momentarily. He has not finished relocating all remaining residents of the Archive, and for one in particular there are very few options for a secure destination. It just won’t do for Bobby to be released back into society unsupervised, what with him having spent three quarters of his life safely secured in the Archive.

There is, of course, another option, as Alistair so bluntly reminded him during his fateful visit to the Home Office, but somehow Dominic has not even entertained the idea of getting rid of Bobby in that way. He has never agreed to mindless violence or unnecessary killing of supernaturals if they can be otherwise contained. The question remaining is – where?

It briefly crosses his mind that his own flat is, in fact, very spacious for a single person. But the thought of hiding away a monster like Bobby in his own four walls really doesn’t sit well with him. He will have to come up with an alternative, but for now he moves on to the last highlighted email in his inbox.

A reply from the Chinese. He can’t believe his eyes as he clicks on the email to expand the message. Never in a million years would he have expected the Chinese to even consider his desperate plea for financial assistance. He almost didn’t sent the email – a mixture of damaged pride and fear of the unknown stalling his hand – but his frantic drive to restore meaning to his life won out. Now they have actually replied to him, and they are inviting him to discuss his proposal in person on Friday 22nd February. That’s three days from now, in _Beijing_.

Dominic takes a deep breath to try and calm his fastening heartbeat. He has never been a confident flyer. And with the planned loss of electricity at the Archive, he will have to find somewhere for Bobby to go immediately. The full moon is only… six days away. The timescale is really rather worrying.

***

And so it turns out that the return of Dominic’s favour comes about quicker than he has anticipated.

He hadn’t planned to call at Honolulu Heights again quite so soon, truth be told, and this time he finds it hard to ignore the flutter at the pit of his stomach that accompanies his ringing the doorbell, his left hand gripping Bobby’s bicep a little bit too hard, as if he is worried the Type 3 might make a run for it.

It is Tom McNair who opens the door.

“Can I help you?” His voice isn’t exactly all-out hostile, but certainly on the cold side of the temperature spectrum.

“I believe so,” Dominic says with as much positivity and enthusiasm as he can muster. “May we come in?”

McNair shrugs and steps aside, implicitly allowing them to enter. Dominic marches Bobby along the hallway and into the living room, gesturing for him to sit down on the sofa. Bobby looks around nervously for a moment, but eventually does as he is told.

“I don’t know,” he hears McNair say in the hallway behind him. He carefully listens for another voice, but it doesn’t materialise. Instead, he hears McNair’s voice again. “No. Go get Hal, okay?” And after another pause, he adds, “I don’t know. In his room?” Dominic suddenly remembers the Type 1 he sensed at the insurance firm. Then he recalls Hal mentioning a ‘friend’, whose body his department confiscated. Does this mean there is a Type 1 residing here as well? A most intriguing thought.

When he hears footsteps on the stairs a few moments later, Dominic’s stomach gives a small lurch, which he pointedly ignores. Ever since… that day, his body has been playing the strangest tricks on him. He turns around to see Hal and McNair entering the room, walking past him and coming to stand across from him and Bobby, in front of the fireplace. His eyes fall on Hal and he feels a bout of nervous energy rushing through him. Suddenly he feels acutely aware of his own hands, and decides to lean forward on the back of the sofa to give them somewhere to go that doesn’t feel too awkward.

He plasters what he hopes is a winning smile on his face, and opens his mouth. “Thank you both for agreeing to see us, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any more notice. Unfortunately, a situation has arisen that means I will have to leave the country for a few days, during which Bobby here will require somewhere to stay.”

“Where’d he stay before?” asks McNair. A fair question.

“Bobby is the last remaining resident of the Archive. He has been living there for the last thirty-three years.”

“When you say ‘resident’…” McNair starts. There is a short pause in which he steals a glance at Bobby, and then a sideways look at Hal. “You really mean ‘prisoner’, don’t ya?” His tone is only slightly accusatory, more like stating an unsavoury fact.

“Of course not.” Dominic feels the immediate need to defend himself. “Bobby came to the Archive after an… unfortunate incident involving his family, and has stayed with us ever since for his own protection.”

“Protective custody then,” Hal pipes up. The first words he has spoken since he entered the room, and the cold detachment in his voice grates on Dominic in ways that puzzle and unnerve him, even though what he says is probably as close to the truth as it gets.

Dominic’s eyes meet Hal’s across the coffee table. The Type 2 is standing ramrod straight, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “If you insist on calling it that.”

McNair’s eyebrows draw together. “So what’s any of that got to do with us?”

Dominic opens his mouth to answer, but Hal beats him to it. “He wants us, or rather you, to look after Bobby while he is away.”

Dominic finds himself nodding in agreement. “Exactly. Thank you, Hal.” He flashes the Type 2 what he hopes is a friendly smile.

McNair, however, seems to have different ideas. “No, I’m not doin’ it, no way.”

Dominic sighs. “He can’t stay in the Archive. I have no staff. And with the electricity turned off, no way of containing him during the full moon.”

McNair, rather than answering him directly, turns towards Hal. “Tell him about the deal.”

Hal looks straight at Dominic and says, “After some unfortunate encounters, we’ve made a pledge to avoid contact with other supernaturals.” Dominic knows only too well what ‘unfortunate encounters’ Hal is talking about. First there was Ian Cram, and then Larry Chrysler, who met his unfortunate demise in this very living room less than two weeks ago.

“They’re nothing but trouble,” McNair adds, and going by their recent history, Dominic can only secretly agree with him. This, however, would not do as far as Bobby is concerned.

“Bobby’s no trouble, are you, Bobby?” He looks down at where Bobby is sitting on the sofa. The Type 3 is not responding, seemingly completely transfixed on a point on the mantelpiece slightly to the left of McNair. “Bobby? What is it?”

McNair follows Bobby’s gaze with his own eyes. From where Dominic is standing, there is definitely nothing there. Fantastic, he thinks. Trust the great oaf to creep them out before he has even moved in. Time for some damage control. “He does this, it’s nothing to— He’s thinking.” It sounds like a lame excuse even to his own ears.

“He’s noticed our friend Alex. She’s a ghost.” Hal’s words don’t really come as a surprise, but Dominic is still slightly disappointed with himself that he did not pick up on the Type 1’s presence this time around. Still, this is something he can work with.

“Do you hear that, Bobby? They have a ghost! Goodness gracious!” Bobby remains completely entranced by said ghost. It makes Dominic ever so slightly uncomfortable to be the only person in the room not to be able to see her.

“Why can’t he go somewhere else?” McNair asks.

“He needs to be billeted with people who have the experience and tools to deal with his condition,” he explains, and then, to strengthen his position in this losing battle, adds, “And this household does owe me a favour.” He gives Hal a pointed look and sees a minute flicker of anxiety in the Type 2’s features. He has not told his housemates about the incident then. Interesting.

“Cleaning up after Ian,” Hal speaks up, obviously in response to something the Type 1 had said.

“Speaking of whom,” Dominic picks up the cue, “he has adopted the sobriquet ‘Crumb’ and gone on a killing spree. He’s claimed at least six victims in the last month alone.”

“I haven’t seen anything in the papers.” Hal’s voice is dismissive and slightly defensive.

“No. I have reason to believe he has formed an alliance with an ex-employee of mine, Alan. Together they can kill at will and leave no trace.”

Dominic feels a sudden surge of anger rising up in him that takes him somewhat by surprise. Anger at Hal for inadvertently causing these deaths, and anger at himself for… for what? He opens his mouth, and the words that come out taste like bile on his tongue. “I want you to… deal with him. However you see fit.”

“He’s not my responsibility,” Hal shoots back indignantly, and a fresh wave of fury washes over Dominic. The Old One’s mere presence in the room suddenly feels like an insult to him.

“You made Crumb! Besides, you’ve cost my department a lot of time and resources over the centuries. This is your chance to give a little something back. Big society and so forth.” The last bit is delivered in the kind of menacing false joviality that he spent most of his adolescence perfecting. He can see Hal swallowing uncomfortably. Good, he’s getting through to him. “And Mr McNair will look after Bobby until I’m back,” he concludes with a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“No chance,” says McNair.

Dominic’s eyes narrow. This Type 3 is more stubborn than he could ever have anticipated. He’s had enough of these games. Thankfully, Hal comes to his rescue.

“It wouldn’t be for long,” he states. Of course, he knows that Dominic has leverage, namely the demise of Larry Chrysler at his hands, which McNair appears to be blissfully unaware of.

McNair is looking at Hal as if he has lost his mind. “What about work? He’s not coming to work. Look at him.”

Bobby is busy shining his torch on his own stomach and poking the little circle of light with his finger. When he realises that all eyes in the room are on him, he looks up at McNair and asks, “What’s your job?”

“I’m assistant manager in a hotel,” answers McNair.

“Skill,” says Bobby in an awed voice.

McNair considers Bobby for a long moment, then turns his confused eyes to Dominic. “Is he being sarcastic?”

“Truth be told, I’m never quite sure.” Then, seeing his opportunity to wrap this whole mess up, he adds, “I’ll be back before the full moon. Bobby, do whatever Mr McNair says. I’ll show myself out.”

Without giving anyone present the chance to respond, he turns on his heels and does just that. Once outside, he takes a few deep breaths and tries desperately to slow down his racing heart. Rage still flows through his body like an electrical current, and it alarms him. He is not normally someone who loses control so easily.

In a way, Dominic muses, it makes a welcome change to the emptiness that has been his constant companion of late.


	4. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A truth suddenly materialises in Dominic’s mind. And that truth is that he is undeniably, violently attracted to Hal Yorke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy Dominic's revelation. It has taken him long enough...
> 
> This chapter contains dialogue taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 4 "The Greater Good".

Fear and panic in the air  
I want to be free  
From desolation and despair  
And I feel like everything I saw  
Is being swept away  
When I refuse to let you go

I can't get it right  
Get it right  
Since I met you

\- Muse, “Map of the Problematique”

  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Beth Watson and I’m your chief flight attendant for today. On behalf of the Captain and the entire crew, I welcome you aboard this Boeing 747 British Airways flight from London Heathrow to Beijing. Our flight time will be ten hours and five minutes. As we are getting ready for take-off, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belt is correctly fastened. Also, any portable electronic devices must be set to ‘airplane’ mode until an announcement is made upon arrival. Thank you.”

Dominic balls his hands into fists in his lap. He hates take-off. It always makes him feel slightly nauseous, and more than a little disoriented, like he has trouble ascertaining where his body is in space. The pressure on the ears doesn’t help either. He just hopes that once he is in the air, his body will adjust and he will be able to catch a few hours’ sleep before his meeting with the Chinese officials tomorrow.

His stomach gives a lurch as the wheels of the 747 lift off the runway. He closes his eyes, fingernails digging into his palms. A thin film of sweat is breaking out on his forehead. It is most undignified. He should have taken something to take the edge off. A diazepam, or a double shot of whisky. Both pretty much serve the same purpose in his book.

Luckily, his body does manage to adjust once the aeroplane has finished its ascent and brought itself back into a horizontal position. Dominic tilts his seat back and watches the clouds go by outside the small oval window. The quiet hum of the engine in his ears, he can soon feel his eyelids getting heavy. He welcomes the feeling as he plummets into the deep recesses of sleep.

***

_Dominic is standing in the Type 2 cell block in the Archive, his father next to him. Beyond the metal bars, he can see Joey’s slim form huddled up against the back wall. The expression on his father’s face is murderous as he produces a set of heavy steel keys and starts unlocking the cell door._

_“Let’s see if you still think he is nice if you are brought face to face with what he really is,” his father says in a menacing tone, swinging the door open. Dominic stares at the Type 2 at the back of the cell for a long moment. Joey is not moving, not making any attempt to escape, just watches Dominic and his father warily. Dominic turns around to where his father has been standing a moment before and does a double take. His father is gone. He wonders briefly why he didn’t hear him leave, but then discards the thought. His eyes wander back to the inhabitant of the cell, who is no longer sitting at the back, but has got to his feet and is taking a few slow steps towards him. Calculated, like a predator. Dominic’s eyes widen as the Type 2 steps out of the shadows of the cell. This is not Joey. It’s Crumb._

_Dominic swallows hard and takes a few steps back, away from the approaching monster._

_“I was hoping I’d see you again,” Crumb says with an evil smile on his face, exposing his fangs. “After what you did to me, killing you will be a pleasure.”_

_“Mr Crumb, I’m sure we can come to some kind of understanding,” he hears himself say, voice too high-pitched and the words coming out much too fast._

_“I don’t think so, Mr Rook. You see, I haven’t fed for an awfully long time while I was in there.” He gestures back into the cell. “Kinda hungry now.” There is that horrible smile again._

_Dominic knows there is only one thing for it. He turns on his heels and runs._

_Thankfully, the heavy steel door opens without any resistance, and Dominic makes his way up the stairs and along the familiar corridors of the Archive. He can hear Crumb’s footsteps following closely behind. However far he runs, it seems impossible to shake the Type 2 off his trail. His breathing is becoming heavy and his heart rate is speeding up, and he knows Crumb will relish the sound of his blood rushing through his veins faster and faster._

_Dominic turns a sharp corner and a man appears in front of him. He looks familiar, clad in a grey suit, black hair perfectly parted. As Dominic approaches, the man turns around and shows him his face. A face adorned with black eyes and sharp white fangs. Alan._

_Dominic realises he has nowhere left to run. With Alan in front of him and Crumb hot on his heels, he can do nothing but come to a sudden stop, chest heaving and heartbeat pounding in his ears._

_This is it then. The end, at the hands of two people he has wronged. He could plead for his life. Spew some trite nonsense about how it doesn’t have to end like this, how they should think about what they are about to do and find it in themselves to forgive and forget. But these are monsters. Animals. Ruthless killers. They will not listen to emotional drivel any more than they will listen to reason._

_Dominic stands with his eyes wide open as the two Type 2s are closing in on him. All of a sudden, there is a flurry of movement behind his assailers. Crumb and Alan stop in their tracks, obviously also aware of the new presence in the narrow corridor. Dominic lets out a shaky breath as before his eyes, both Type 2’s freeze, then start cracking in a familiar way before dissolving into a cloud of ash._

_Dominic’s eyes sting from the ash and he finds it difficult to focus them on the person in front of him._

_As the ash cloud finally settles, the unmistakable black-clad figure of Hal Yorke comes into view. Dominic is still breathing heavily, and his voice is husky when he says, “Thank you.”_

_Hal just chuckles and approaches him slowly. There is something off about this, something setting Dominic’s teeth on edge. He wipes his eyes with a shaking hand and takes another, closer look at Hal. Where he expects familiar hazel eyes, all he can see is two black pits of evil. Hal opens his mouth, showing off his fangs before saying, “Well then, now that’s out of the way…” He takes one disdainful look at the two piles of ash on the floor, then lifts his gaze again to pin it on Dominic. “I never liked to share.”_

_Dominic swallows and finds that he can no longer look at the monster who is about to claim his life. He closes his eyes tight but stands his ground, trembling, anticipating the sharp sting of fangs in his neck any moment now…_

_Hal’s breath on his face startles him. His eyes fly open just in time to see a pair of hazel ones boring into them, and then Hal’s lips are on his own. Dominic freezes. He’s forgotten how to breathe. His heart is in his throat and he tries to swallow, swallow, but his body is not obeying him. Hal’s lips move against his ever so slightly, and suddenly he feels himself responding, and a thought is invading his mind,_ I’m kissing Hal Yorke _, but it doesn’t matter because he needs this, like water in a desert, and he welcomes it as Hal’s tongue tickles his lips, he opens up, lets him in, and it’s the most exquisite thing he has ever felt._

_Suddenly there is a hand on his shoulder. Is it Hal’s? No, both of Hal’s hands have settled on his hips. Then who…? Is there someone else here? The hand is insistent, shaking his shoulder ever so slightly, and, annoyed at the interruption, he pulls away…_

Dominic startles awake to the flight attendant looming over him. “Sir, I’m very sorry, but we are experiencing some unexpected turbulence. I have to ask you to return your seat to an upright position and to fasten your seatbelt until we have made it through the bad weather front.”

He follows her eyes down to his lap, where the seatbelt sits undone. He is mortified to see that there is some undeniable evidence of the dream he has just woken up from in plain sight, and the flight attendant averts her eyes quickly as he feels a rush of blood into his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says, slightly breathless. His heart is pounding, and his trousers are really quite uncomfortably tight. Dominic suddenly wishes that he wasn’t able to remember the dream. That’s what usually happens with him, he wakes up from a dream, there is a moment between sleeping and waking where he desperately tries to hold on to it, and then it drifts away from him. Not this time.

Dominic lifts a hand to his lips, Hal’s touch there almost tangible to him even now.

A truth suddenly materialises in Dominic’s mind. And that truth is that he is undeniably, violently attracted to Hal Yorke.

However, beyond the factual correctness of the statement, he is also very aware that his brain has absolutely no idea how to process it. He has never felt physically or emotionally attracted to anyone in his life. When he was younger and still maintained a level of interest and curiosity in such things, this fact was the cause of many late nights lying awake in his bed, and much anxiety about the notion that he may not, in fact, be what society calls _normal_.

Now, sitting in his business class window seat on a flight from London to Beijing with a raging hard-on, he knows with absolute certainty that he is not.

He is not sure how he feels about the fact that he is, for all intents and purposes, attracted to a man. The thought honestly never even crossed his mind. It would explain so many things, but the way he was raised, this kind of deviant behaviour was just never something that was even entertained as a possibility. His father would most likely have had him shot and then denied ever having had a son. The thought triggers a grim smile. Part of him hopes Geoffrey Rook is turning in his grave at his son’s sudden revelation.

But then there is the bigger issue, the one that makes his sexual orientation seem like such a minor concern. Because he is attracted to Hal Yorke, and Hal Yorke is not a man. He has not been a man for five hundred years.

The cruel reality is that he is attracted to a Type 2. A monster who has killed thousands of innocent people.

Someone who has technically not even been alive for hundreds of years.

Dominic suddenly feels a wave of nausea hit the pit of his stomach. He wants nothing more than to get up and retreat to the safety of the bathroom, but the seatbelt sign is still on and the plane is shaking and stuttering through the bad weather front. Dominic is startled when he realises that he has not even noticed the turbulence until now.

Now that he is aware of it, it does very little to help his worsening nausea. On top of everything else, Dominic feels like his chest is tightening up, and beads of sweat start collecting on his brow. His breathing speeds up to overcome the increasing resistance. It’s like his breaths are trying to match his racing heartbeat.

He is panicking, Dominic starts to realise. Whether as a result of the turbulence or the dream, he isn’t quite sure. But does it really matter anyway?

***

Dominic can’t help but think that he has never been so glad to feel stable ground under his feet as he walks down the seemingly endless airport corridors to the baggage reclaim. Unfortunately for him, the turbulence lasted for almost the entire rest of the flight, which not only made for an eventful landing, but also meant that he did, in fact, end up throwing up into the paper bag in the seat pocket in front of him. On the plus side though, it meant that his other problem pretty much resolved itself by the time the seatbelt signs turned off, as arousal and panic did not appear to coexist very well in most circumstances.

Dominic feels a blush creeping into his cheeks as bits of his dream replay themselves in his mind, seemingly in slow motion. Hal’s face, so close that he can see every fleck of green and amber in his hazel eyes. Hal’s lips, so impossibly soft against his own. Dominic stops in his tracks and tries to shake the images out of his head. What is happening to him? He has to focus on his negotiations with the Chinese, and here he is, obsessing over a Type 2 like some blasted Twilight fangirl.

Dominic makes his way through baggage reclaim and passport control, trying to redirect his mind to go over the speech he has prepared for the Chinese officials. It is ten o’clock in the morning local time, which means he has just two and a half hours before this all-important meeting. He has to focus if he wants to stand any chance to win their support.

***

Five and a half hours later, Dominic’s vision of using the Chinese funding to save his department’s future has been completely and utterly crushed. Despite his flawless presentation about his department’s work and the global threat presented by the supernaturals if left unregulated, all the Chinese officials had been interested in was financial gain. Three hours of wasted negotiations, when he could have told after less than an hour that they were not going to come to an agreement. Opening the door to his hotel room, he wonders how the Chinese ever thought he was going to generate a profit from his line of work. It’s not like the people of Great Britain organise fundraisers to help fight the supernatural threat. They don’t even know that supernaturals _exist_. That’s the whole point of it, isn’t it?

Dominic lets the door fall shut behind him and flings himself into an armchair. It’s been a long and tiring day, and he has to give himself a chance to relax and recharge before thinking about his next steps. If there are any actual next steps left. It feels like the ground has been ripped from underneath his feet and he is floating in nothingness, towards the inevitable black hole that will swallow everything up in the end. Dominic sighs and makes his way over to the mini bar. The only thing he has felt helped his worsening black moods recently has been whisky, and he could really do with one now. Luckily for him, there is a bottle of Jack Daniels available. He takes out the bottle and retrieves a glass from the shelf above it.

Pouring himself a generous amount, he sits back in the armchair and lets his head flop back after taking a sip. The liquid burns as it flows down his throat, and Dominic relishes the warm, slightly numb feeling it leaves behind, just as he relishes the warm, fuzzy feeling in his head after a few more sips. All he really wants is to close his eyes and forget everything that happened in the last few weeks. From his fateful meeting with Alistair, to his equally fateful discovery of the last remaining Old One and everything that came with it, to the disastrous meeting with the Chinese officials this afternoon. He briefly wonders whether the windows in his room open far enough for him to jump – his room is on the eleventh floor after all. But knowing modern health and safety standards, he doubts that they will. And to be honest, he would prefer a neater, cleaner death – like using his father’s old revolver. For the first time since that fateful day, he feels a surge of anger towards Hal for interrupting him. The thought of Hal, however, causes a sudden lurch in his stomach that makes him want to throw up. It has been there all along, this attraction, this disgusting obsession he seems to have for this particular Type 2. He just didn't recognise it for what it was. And now that he has, what is he supposed to do with it? It’s not like he will ever allow himself to act on it. The thought alone makes his throat constrict in horror, but at the back of his mind there is still a tiny little voice that whispers to him how much he wants it. How much he wants Hal. He closes his eyes and takes another swig of whisky to shut the voice up.

***

To Dominic’s immense surprise, the flight back to London is free of turbulence as well as further unwanted dreams, and he arrives back at Heathrow Airport feeling surprisingly well rested.

On his drive back to Cardiff though, he can feel dread settling at the bottom of his stomach like a rock, and he realises that getting back home means he will have to go and pick up Bobby, which means…

He will have to face Hal.

Dominic swallows, gripping the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. How is he supposed to ever face the Type 2 again? How can he find it in himself to act like nothing is amiss when there is that blasted little voice at the back of his mind that wants nothing more than to grab Hal by his lapels and kiss him senseless? To explore whether his lips really are as soft as they were in his dream?

Dominic forcefully shakes off the unwelcome thought and focusses on the road ahead, where the traffic is thickening as he is approaching Cardiff.

***

Walking into the hotel foyer, Dominic is able to hear Bobby long before he can see him. Or more precisely, he can hear Tom McNair’s desperate struggle for air as the oafish Type 3 has lifted McNair off the ground and appears to be strangling him.

Dominic breaks into a run and shouts, “Bobby! Put him down! My God!”

By the time he reaches the two Type 3s, Bobby has reluctantly released McNair, who is catching his breath and straightening his back.

“I knew this would happen,” Dominic laments, then turns to McNair. “Mr McNair, I can't apologise enough-”

But McNair cuts him off, “That’s all right, he was just talking to me, weren’t he?”

“Are you all right?” asks Dominic.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” McNair replies, “Just need to sit down for a sec.” With this he lets himself sink down into a chair at one of the tables.

“How did it go with the Chinese?” pipes up Bobby.

Dominic turns around to him and says truthfully, “Not well. They were more interested in what return they could get from their investment. Because keeping the world safe clearly isn’t enough of a fucking return!” Dominic can feel the rage building up while he is talking and feels too tired and defeated to suppress it, so he just lets it out. Bobby looks a bit taken aback at the sudden verbal assault, so Dominic does his best to catch his breath and plaster a smile on his face to placate the Type 3. “Anyway,” he starts, “I promised I’d be back before the full moon, so here I am. Now, I was thinking, perhaps I can rig up some emergency lighting in the Archive?”

“No, it’s all right, ‘cause Mr Tom said that I could change in the cellar in his house.”

“Yeah,” McNair agrees, “I usually change there but I’ll just go to the woods. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“He’s done it hundreds of times,” Bobby repeats, while Dominic looks back and forth between them.

“Yes, but this can’t be a permanent arrangement, Bobby. We agreed it wouldn’t be safe, remember?”

In true stubborn McNair fashion, however, the Type 3 gets up off his chair and argues, “No, listen. I know you love lockin’ people up, but I’m lookin’ after Bobby now. He’s not an animal, he’s a nice guy. He’s got potential.” He turns to Bobby and adds, “You’ll do brilliant things, mate.”

Dominic can’t help but stare at the Type 3 in front of him. Less than a week ago, he vehemently denied taking any responsibility for Bobby, even for a few days, and now here he is arguing on his behalf and offering to ‘look after him’.

Bobby, obviously touched by McNair’s words, goes in for another hug, but this time McNair manages to get away and yells, “No, Bobby, please!” He sits back down in the chair and adds, “Just keep it inside you, man.”

Bobby instead turns back to Dominic and says, “Mr Tom is going to teach me mountaineering, swimming… he’s one of the country’s most sought-after lifeguards.”

Dominic has to bite down on his tongue not to announce to Bobby that McNair may not have been entire truthful about some of the things he told him, obviously in a bid to impress the other Type 3.

But before he has a chance to say anything else, a familiar voice sounds behind him. “Hello, Mr Rook.”

Dominic cannot believe his ears. He didn’t think he would ever hear that voice again. He turns around slowly while addressing the owner of said voice. “Crumb.”

As soon as he turns to face Crumb, however, he regrets his decision. There, next to Crumb, is the man he has so desperately been trying to avoid. He does his very best not to look at Hal directly, but his stomach still gives an involuntary flutter at the sight of the Type 2 and he can feel heat creeping up into his cheeks.

Crumb comes to stand in front of him and says, “It’s Ian, actually.”

“But you’re…” Dominic starts, but the thoughts are becoming a jumble in his mind as Hal steps in next to Crumb, so very close now. He can’t help but steal a couple of glances at the Type 2 as he continues, “So Hal decided to…”

“…not kill him,” Hal finishes his sentence for him. “No. Instead Ian is working through his issues and making a fresh start.” Trust Hal Yorke to shake his believes in right and wrong with regards to Type 2s once again.

“Oh yes,” Crumb confirms. “I’ve come a long way from when you made me kill my niece.”

Dominic feels a stab of guilt in his chest at the mention of Crumb’s niece. But it wouldn’t do to show his inner conflict to the group standing around him, so he fights to keep his composure and says, “Like I told you at the time, that was a tragic accident.” In retrospect, Dominic thinks, maybe this did come out a little more defensively than he had wanted it to. He turns to Hal once more and, in a calmer voice, adds, “I thought seeing his family would have a stabilising effect.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” says Crumb, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s all behind me. I have developed coping strategies and found positive outlets for my energies.” He enunciates every word very carefully, as if reciting from a manual, and Dominic wonders how sincere his attempt at ‘working through his issues’ actually is. “In fact,” Crumb continues, “tonight I shall be enjoying a meal with a young lady.”

Dominic’s eyes follow Crumb’s to his right, where the Type 2 appears to be looking at something only he can see.

“He means Alex. The ghost,” Hal explains. Of course. He has once again missed the presence of the Type 1. Then again, his mind has been a little bit preoccupied.

Trying to veer away from the thoughts that are invading his mind again, Dominic quickly changes the subject. “And Alan?”

“Irredeemable and remorseless,” says Hal. “He was about to go on a rampage but thankfully Ian intervened.”

Dominic feels more and more like his world view is being turned upside down. Now he is being told that _Crumb_ killed one of his ex-employees to stop him from murdering innocent humans. He feels a frown settling on his face and shakes his head. “Well, that’s… that’s wonderful. I must confess I never imagined you,” he looks at Crumb, “and Bobby would adapt to the world quite so smoothly. Clearly my work here, as they say, is done.”

With that he ducks in between Crumb and the Type 1 and tries for a quick getaway, but Bobby calls after him. “You could work here. One of the maids has got impetigo.”

Dominic turns around and addresses Bobby again. All he wants to do is to leave the hotel, sit in his flat with a glass of whisky to get his thoughts back in order. But it seems like it is just not meant to be.

“Very kind. But the Ministry for Agriculture are looking for a junior researcher.” He spits the last words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “I suppose after running an entire department with an annual budget of a hundred million pounds it could be considered a bit of a backward step. Needs must. I shall bid you farewell.”

Dominic finally seizes his opportunity and leaves the small group of supernaturals. He makes his way swiftly across the hotel foyer, when an old man in a wheelchair suddenly speaks up.

“I’d know that suit anywhere.”

For reasons unknown to Dominic, the old man’s voice sends a shiver down his spine and causes the hairs on his arms to stand up. Nevertheless, he turns around to face the old man, who looks at him with a big smile on his face.


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dominic has to close his eyes and attempts to block out the increasingly desperate sounds from the other side of the door. What on Earth is he doing here? He, and his father before him, have kept Bobby safe at the Archive for the last thirty-three years. And he is about to betray the Type 3’s trust in him in the worst possible way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this, it really means a lot to me!
> 
> We are finally getting to the point where this story stops following canon, with a small but pretty important change in the later part of this chapter. 
> 
> Also, please note that the rating is going up from this chapter onwards.
> 
> Last but not least, this chapter contains dialogue taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 4 "The Greater Good".

It’s the devil’s way now  
There is no way out  
You can scream and you can shout  
It is too late now

\- Radiohead, “2 + 2 = 5”

  
“Excuse me, do I know you?” asks Dominic as the old man manoeuvres his wheelchair to face him.

“I wouldn’t think so,” the old man answers with a wide smile. “But I’ve come across your ilk before. Years ago. They saved my life from a bunch of murdering bloodsuckers.”

“Indeed?” is all Dominic manages to get out before the old man drives his powered wheelchair around him and says, “Care for a game of cards with an old man?”

Dominic finds himself following the man to his room. All the while the feeling of unease inside of him intensifies.

“Yes, vampires,” the old man explains once seated at the chess table in his room. Captain Hatch, as he introduced himself, pours Dominic a glass of whisky, which he takes gratefully. “They tied me in chains, recounted spells.”

“Savages,” Dominic exclaims.

“I thought I was done for. But then there you were. The boys in grey.”

At this Dominic actually risks a small smile. It’s good to hear from someone who actually appreciates his department’s work.

“No, I’d be burning in hell if it wasn’t for your lot,” Captain Hatch continues. “You can imagine my shock when I found out one of them is working here.”

And there they are again. Can he never get away from the subject of Hal Yorke? Quite honestly, that particular Type 2 is the last thing he wants to think about right now.

“And a werewolf, too,” Captain Hatch continues. “I wanted to get your lot round here with a big net.”

“How did you know what they were?” asks Dominic.

“The vampire is careless. Stands in front of mirrors, then realises and runs away. Someone points a camera at him and he jumps out of the window.”

Dominic mulls that information over in his head. He may not know Hal as well as he would li— he may not know him that well, but this still doesn’t sound like the Hal Yorke he has met. This Old One, who has been around for over five hundred years, surely would not make such silly mistakes.

“And the wolf?” he asks.

“Well, that was a guess. He disappears every full moon, turns up the next morning looking knackered. Anyway, here you are,” he concludes. “Which one of them are you after?”

Dominic actually feels his cheeks burning at the question and hopes that Captain Hatch is unable to tell in the dimmed light. He carefully schools his face into impassivity as he replies, “Neither, I’m afraid. For one thing, they seem to have rehabilitated.” He takes a quick sip of his drink and welcomes the familiar warmth it creates.

“Oh, you don’t believe that,” says Captain Hatch.

Dominic emphatically shakes his head, thinking, _You wouldn’t want to hear some of the things I believe_. Out loud, he says, “Doesn’t matter what I believe. My department has been dissolved.” He drowns the last mouthful of whisky from his glass in one big gulp.

“No,” Captain Hatch exclaims. “This won’t do at all!”

There is a short pause in which they sit in companionable silence for a few minutes before Captain Hatch speaks up again.

“It’s a full moon tonight.”

Dominic nods. He is very much aware of this.

“How many werewolves are there in this country?”

Dominic thinks for a moment before replying. “About thirty-five registered. We estimate the same number again unknown and at large.”

“All those monsters out there right now,” Captain Hatch says disdainfully. “Makes your blood run cold. With your department gone there’ll be nothing to stop them. It’s only a matter of time before one attacks, I don’t know… a party of girl guides out camping.”

The thought sends a shiver down Dominic’s spine and he shuts his eyes to will the image from his mind.

“And then they’ll be begging you to return,” Captain Hatch says, refilling Dominic’s glass.

“I don’t doubt it,” says Dominic emphatically and takes another sip of the amber liquid.

“Be too late though for the poor little blighters with their faces ripped off. If only the powers that be could get a taste of the chaos they’re about to create.”

“I’ve tried something like that already,” Dominic replies, and he can’t suppress the flashback of Crumb tearing apart his sister and niece that it evokes. Captain Hatch just looks at him, silently willing him to continue. “Last month I filmed a vampire killing members of his own family. I thought if the minister could see what they were capable of…”

“What did he say?” asks Captain Hatch.

“‘This is within allowable parameters of carnage’,” Dominic quotes, then adds, “How many does he want?”

“Well, that’s a very interesting question,” Captain Hatch replies. “How many _does_ he want?”

Dominic frowns. “I’m not sure you can put a figure on it.”

“He clearly thinks you can. What, four? Ten? A dozen?”

Dominic is taken aback by the matter of fact way in which Captain Hatch is approaching this. As far as he is concerned, any one death at the hands of a supernatural is one to many. How do you put a figure on something like this? Then he realises what he needs to do. To know what would make an actual difference to a man like Alistair, he has to think like a politician himself. Because this is what it is about in the end, isn’t it? It’s all politics.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Major policy shift – ten, minimum. But the point is—”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” Captain Hatch interrupts. “Yes, you want to keep it to a minimum, of course, but you can’t arrange something like that. You can’t choose how many people they savage, you can’t contain them in that way.”

What Captain Hatch is actually trying to tell him, Dominic realises, is that what they need is a supernatural incident. Something that will make Government officials recognise the importance of his department’s work. Something major, something that will make the news. Something like—

“What is it, son?” Captain Hatch’s voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Stupid idea.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Captain Hatch assures him. “The sanctity of the confession and all that.”

Dominic’s mouth seems to open without him consciously deciding to speak. “The two werewolves here – one is going to the woods, the other to his companion’s cellar.”

“Ah, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I see where you’re going. If he was not to make it-”

“No,” Dominic suddenly interrupts. “No, no, no. The guests.”

“Widows, sales reps,” Captain Hatch says. “It’s them or the girl guides.”

And it seems like in that moment, Dominic’s mind is made up. Bobby, bless his heart, wouldn’t even fully comprehend what happened. He would wake up in the hotel in the morning and apologise for not getting home in time, and then that would be that. But the resulting deaths would most certainly be enough to alert Alistair to put a policy shift in motion.

***

Dominic’s heart is in his throat as he stands in the open doorway to the barrel room. Bobby is standing in front of one of the barrels and is reciting some silly rhyme to determine which way to open the barrel. Just as he seems to have managed to do it and goes to high five himself, Dominic takes hold of the door and slams it shut, locking Bobby in. He is pretty sure that the Type 3 was distracted enough that he did not see him.

Dominic stands for a moment with his back to the door, catching his breath, but when Bobby starts banging on the door and shouting "Hello!” he swiftly moves across to the opposite wall.

Bobby continues to bang on the door, shouting “Help, please! Hello? Hello, the door’s shut on me, you gotta let me out! I’ve gotta be somewhere very important! Please! Please, open the door, please!”

Dominic has to close his eyes and attempts to block out the increasingly desperate sounds from the other side of the door. What on Earth is he doing here? He, and his father before him, have kept Bobby safe at the Archive for the last thirty-three years. And he is about to betray the Type 3’s trust in him in the worst possible way. This is not right, this is not right, this is not—

It’s too late. From the other side of the door, he can hear the sound of Bobby’s agonised screams as the Type 3 is beginning to transform. There is nothing he can do about it now. With or without his assistance, the vicious beast would not be held by this rather flimsy door. Would it?

A mournful howl from the barrel room tells him that Bobby’s transformation is complete. Slowly and ever so quietly he moves across to the door and unlocks it, then pushes it open, switches off the electricity main and runs.

He is breathless and his heart is pounding in his chest by the time he makes it back to Captain Hatch’s room. The old man is sitting in the dark, the room only lit by a handful of candles. As Dominic approaches the table, Captain Hatch is shuffling a deck of cards.

“It’s done,” Dominic announces.

Captain Hatch sounds calm and composed as he replies, “Relax. It’s for the greater good.” He gestures for Dominic to sit across from him at the table. “Three card brag?”

Dominic doesn’t seem to be able to find his voice, but Captain Hatch appears to take his silence as agreement and begins to shuffle and then deal the cards.

“All in," the captain says, and Dominic finds himself absently nodding.

Dominic looks down at the three cards in his hand, but can’t help but listen to the frantic footsteps and terrible growling in the distance. His heart still races, and it’s no longer from the running.

“It’s all gone wrong,” says Captain Hatch suddenly, and Dominic wonders what he is referring to.

No longer able to contain himself, he puts his cards down on the table and says, “I should go and see what’s happened.”

He is about to get up as Captain Hatch forcefully grabs his left hand with his own to keep him in place. “It’s _them_ ,” he says urgently. “You’ve got to do something about _them_. Hal and Tom, they’ll ruin everything. We’ll never have the chaos we need while they’re around.”

A terrible thought suddenly enters Dominic’s mind. Hal is working in the hotel tonight. He is the manager, he will have been the first responsible to try and do something about the vicious monster he released into the hotel. There are numerous records of Type 2s having been torn apart by Type 3s in their transformed state. What kind of spell has he been under that until this point that that thought did not even enter his mind?

“I think we should try a different approach,” he says vaguely, hoping to placate Captain Hatch.

In that moment, however, something changes in Captain Hatch. He painfully claws his fingernails into the back of Dominic’s hand and his voice sounds like a man possessed when he says, “Can’t go back now. You’ve unlocked the door. You’ve made your choice. You’re damned already, boy, soaked in blood. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dominic yanks his hand back from Hatch’s grasp and jumps back from the table. Looking down at his hand, he can see that the old man has actually drawn blood. What on Earth is going on here? If he had to come up with an explanation on the spot, he would say that this is most likely some kind of demonic possession, but in all his years he has never come across anything like that.

With him pulling back, the spell seems to have broken and Captain Hatch appears to be coming back to himself. “I’m so sorry, Mr Rook. I do apologise, please forgive me.”

Dominic leans forward slightly to grab his keys off the table, never taking his wary eyes off Captain Hatch in case he changes back again.

“It’s just, this may be our only chance,” Hatch continues. Then, “We haven’t finished our game.” He gestures to the cards lying forgotten on the table. Dominic stands by the table for a long moment, torn between staying and hopefully finding out some more about whatever the hell just happened, or leaving the room and never coming back.

But then one thing Hatch said replays itself in his mind. _It’s them. You’ve got to do something about them. Hal and Tom, they’ll ruin everything._

If Hatch wants him to target Hal and Tom, he’s got the wrong man. The two supernaturals have been nothing but helpful to him, and he does owe Hal his life. He will not go on a personal vendetta against those two.

“I’m sorry, Captain Hatch,” he says, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “I should leave.”

And with this he makes his way through the deserted hotel corridors to the exit.

***

Back at his flat, Dominic pours himself a generous glass of whisky and sits back on the sofa in his rarely used living room. Vaguely aware that he has probably already drunk more than enough today, Dominic lets his head flop back on the backrest of the sofa while precariously balancing the glass on his right knee. Just the presence of it in his hand seems to have a calming effect.

Dominic closes his eyes and forces the images of Captain Hatch and Bobby in the barrel room out of his mind. But as much as he might try, he can’t get rid of the sounds of running footsteps, shouting and menacing growling. A flash of Hal trying to lure the wolf away from the hotel guests pops up in his mind’s eye, and his eyes fly open just as he feels dampness soak into his trouser leg as the hand holding the glass gives an involuntary spasm. He quickly mops up the wet patch with a paper tissue, but doesn’t bother refilling his glass.

He sits back down on the sofa and allows his head to fall back again. His eyes fall shut of their own accord. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his hyper alert nerves, and within minutes he feels himself drift off to sleep.

***

Dominic wakes up in his bed, with no recollection of how he got there. In that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness, he tries desperately to hold on to the dream he had just before opening his eyes, but to his dismay, it seems to be drifting away from him. All he can remember is that it was a nice dream, and he does not get many of those nowadays. As he comes to a little bit more, he notices that he is still wearing his grey suit trousers and shirt, but seems to have lost his waistcoat, tie and socks somewhere along the way. His trousers appear uncomfortably tight in certain places, and he is starting to have an idea as to the exact nature of his dream.

This time, in the safety of his own bedroom, Dominic allows himself to move a hand down to his crotch to feel the evidence of his erection through the trouser fabric. He hesitantly moves his hand up and down his crotch, rubbing the sensitive flesh underneath, but it’s not enough. His hand comes up to undo his belt buckle, button and zip before reaching inside and taking himself into his hand. While he moves his hand up and down his cock, slowly at first, then speeding up his movements as the need increases, images of Hal dance before his eyes. Hal smiling at him, showing his perfect white teeth. Hal leaning in to kiss him, those velvety soft lips on his, then moving down to kiss his neck, just below his earlobe… Hal’s hand trailing down his chest, his stomach, down, down… Hal opening his trousers to reach inside and take hold of his straining erection, just as he is just now… Hal moving his long, practised fingers up and down his cock to bring him closer and closer to the edge… until… until…

With a soft moan Dominic spills his release over his hand and stomach. He lies in bed for a long moment, catching his breath, marvelling at the intensity of the orgasm. He has done this many times before, but it’s always been a rather mechanical affair, on the verge of being unsatisfying. This has been… very different.

When he feels that his limbs are obeying him again, Dominic sits up to retrieve some tissues from the bedside table. As he sits and mops up his come off of his white shirt, a sudden wave of nausea overcomes him at the thought of what he has just done. His body has betrayed him, has tricked him into giving in to his attraction to the infernal Type 2. He cannot allow himself to act on these disgusting urges, he has to learn to be stronger than this.

From this day onwards, he will do everything in his power to not cross paths with Hal Yorke ever again.

***

It must be a particularly cruel twist of fate that makes Dominic’s phone ring two hours later with the caller being no one other than Hal Yorke himself.

“Mr Rook, I’m very sorry but I need your help.”

Dominic closes his eyes and swallows hard before answering. “What is it this time, Hal?” He didn’t mean to let his frustration show so clearly in his voice, but his resolve is growing very thin where this particular Type 2 is concerned.

Hal does not rise to Dominic’s insulting tone and instead sounds genuinely subdued when he speaks. “It’s Bobby. He… appears to have committed suicide in the hotel this morning.”

“What?” asks Dominic. Another suicide in the hotel? And _Bobby_ of all people? “Any idea why… I mean, do you have any idea what would have made him do it? Did something happen last night?”

He has to tread carefully not to give too much away about his involvement in last night’s events. But what if Bobby _did_ hurt someone last night and couldn’t live with the consequences of it? What if it was all his fault?

“No, we are as baffled as you are, to be honest. He seemed in really good spirits yesterday. Please, I know this is not the first time I’m asking you this, but we need you to take care of this.”

“Of course,” says Dominic curtly, as every moment he spends on the phone with Hal Yorke brings him closer to doing or saying something he will severely regret. “I’ll be right there.”

It turns out that Bobby hanged himself in one of the guest rooms. Hal and McNair managed to get him down from the ceiling and placed him on the bed ready for Dominic’s arrival. Dominic called some of his ex-colleagues, one of which just happened to have bought one of the department vans, to help him move the body back to the Archive.

Hal greeted him at the hotel entrance with a morose “Thanks for coming so quickly”.

Dominic just shrugged in reply, not looking at the Type 2 directly, and asked, “Where is he? I want to get this over with.” Hal led him through the now familiar corridors into one of the guest rooms, where they are standing now, with Dominic closing the zip on the body bag containing the first supernatural he ever met.

“Thank you for doing this,” Hal says into the silence. “I’m sorry, I know it must b—”

“My department is closed,” Dominic snaps. “You don’t know how many favours I had to call in for this. And to cover up that mess last night.” A low blow, but at this point he really is beyond caring.

“I think we’re quits on favours,” Hal bites back, and Dominic feels a surge of anger rise in him. The infernal Type 2 has no idea what he has done to him, how he has corrupted him.

Dominic bites his tongue and just nods to his colleague to start moving the body. He has to get away from this place.


	6. The First Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hal turns to leave, and Dominic’s heart is suddenly pounding in his chest. Without his brain being consciously involved in the process, his mouth opens of its own accord.
> 
> 'Hal, wait.'
> 
> The Type 2 stops in his tracks and turns around. Their eyes meet, and Dominic once again finds his mouth opening without his permission. 
> 
> 'We don’t have leftover stock, but I can offer you something else.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - the chapter that started it all. The first scene I wrote for this (you'll know when you read it), which then miraculously grew into this monster of a fic. It's still probably one of my favourites, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> I decided to put up a second chapter today, because I was never really that happy with Chapter 5, and because frankly I couldn't wait to get Chapter 6 out there.
> 
> This chapter contains dialogue taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 5 "No Care, All Responsibility".

Lose the fear  
It’s written in your eyes again, my dear  
Just look around you  
‘Cause everything you need is still right here

\- Grant Nicholas, “Vampires”

  
It has been two days since Dominic’s last encounter with Hal Yorke, and in those two days it has become painfully clear to him that this ridiculous obsession with the Type 2 is not going to go anywhere. Not only have the dreams returned every night like clockwork, but he finds thoughts of Hal haunting his every waking moment too. And above all else, he has had to admit to himself against his better judgement that he has actually _missed_ the Type 2 in these last two days since he last saw him.

Sitting at his desk in the Archive on this dreary Thursday afternoon, he desperately tries to occupy his mind with anything other than coming up with yet more reasons to go and visit Honolulu Heights as soon as possible, when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts his thoughts.

Dominic looks up to see none other than Hal Yorke himself walking towards him past row after row of empty shelves.

The by now very familiar flutter settles itself in Dominic’s stomach, and having grown tired of fighting it, he welcomes it instead.

“Mr Rook, I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you here,” Hal says as he approaches.

“Not at all, Hal. How can I help you?” Dominic tries very hard to sound professional and detached, and it seems to actually work, for once.

“I was hoping to speak to you about something you mentioned to me back when we first met, about a string of suicides your department was investigating at the Barry Grand,” Hal explains, matter-of-fact. “If it is not too much trouble, would you mind shedding a little bit of light on what has been happening?”

Of all the things Hal could have said, this is certainly not what Dominic expected. Back when he first told Hal about the suicides, the Type 2 seemed completely uninterested. What has changed his mind?

“I’m curious,” he replies. “Why the sudden interest in the hotel suicides?”

“We knew Bobby, Tom and I. We liked him. And if there is something behind what he did, something bigger than him, then we’d like to know about it.”

Of course, this is about Bobby. Dominic should have known. Hal and McNair really seemed to have taken a liking to the Type 3 in their brief time together. While Dominic thinks about things to say in reply to Hal’s admission, something very strange happens. Hal bares his teeth – his normal teeth, no sign of fangs anywhere – and starts _growling_.

 _What the hell is he playing at_ , Dominic thinks. _Is he trying to be threatening? Has he lost his mind?_

Dominic decides that the best way forward is to ignore Hal’s odd behaviour. “I only asked because if you know something more about Bobby’s death I’d certainly like to hear it.”

Hal’s behaviour, however, only seems to get worse as he forcefully slams his hands down on Dominic’s desk.

“Okay, okay,” says Dominic, slightly unsettled by what’s happening with the Type 2. “I suppose there is no reason to retain secrecy anymore.” He gets up from behind his desk and pulls out a grey file from a pile on one of the filing cabinets to his left. “The truth is we’ve long feared the suicides have a supernatural cause,” he explains. “Most likely the result of a Type 1.” He places the file on the desk in front of Hal.

Hal glances at the file and makes a noncommittal sound, which Dominic takes as a prompt to continue talking. “If only I had more time,” he laments.

“What?” asks Hal.

“Regrettably my jurisdiction runs out in a matter of days,” Dominic clarifies, even though Hal should have been perfectly aware of this fact.

Suddenly there is a loud bang on the wall behind him, as if something has been thrown at it.

“What was that?” He looks around, but can’t see anything amiss.

“Perhaps you dislodged something when you took down the file,” Hal suggests. Dominic can’t shake the feeling that there is something more to it than he is aware of. Did Hal bring his Type 1 friend? It would certainly explain his exceedingly odd behaviour. He stops for a moment and opens his mind to the presence of any Type 1s in the room, but there is nothing.

“Perhaps,” he agrees, and turns around to have another look at the filing cabinet just in case. As soon as his back is turned, he can hear something – glass? – being placed on his desk.

Dominic turns back around to see the flask he had given Hal lying on the desk, empty. He raises his eyes to look at Hal. He didn’t notice anything different about him at first, but now, putting two and two together, a few tell-tale signs appear in the way he looks, the way he carries himself. Dominic's heart gives a jolt as he lifts his eyes to look into Hal's.

“Ah, I see,” he says, still trying to sound detached and professional, but finding it increasingly harder to keep up the charade.

“Please.”

The desperation in Hal’s eyes is unmistakable. Dominic feels a sudden stab of guilt in his chest. The last time he saw Hal, a mere two days ago, the Type 2 looked healthy and well, if slightly shaken up by recent events. But even then he was in possession of the flask Dominic had given him, along with a promise of continuous supply. Perhaps what happened at the hotel that day was enough to tip him over the edge. Perhaps he should have said something then. But it is too late now. Hal is back on the blood and he, Dominic, is responsible. He takes a deep breath to collect himself before addressing the Type 2.

“Hal, look around you.” His speech is slow, measured. “We used to have human donors, but they were the first to go.”

“You must have leftover stock,” Hal all but pleads with him. The normally so cool and collected Type 2 is near breaking point, all because of 50ml of blood and a promise that he is now unable to keep.

Dominic finds himself looking at anything but Hal when he replies, “We don’t. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hal turns to leave, and Dominic’s heart is suddenly pounding in his chest. Without his brain being consciously involved in the process, his mouth opens of its own accord.

“Hal, wait.”

The Type 2 stops in his tracks and turns around. Their eyes meet, and Dominic once again finds his mouth opening without his permission.

“We don’t have leftover stock, but I can offer you something else.”

His hand flies up to his shirt collar, and he watches Hal’s confused eyes following the movement of his fingers undoing his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt.

 _What are you doing?_ His confused mind asks in a desperate attempt to hold on to rational thought. But there is no stopping him now as his body continues to act out of his control.

When he brushes the collar away from his neck, he watches the confusion on Hal’s face morph into realisation, and then he sees Hal’s eyes darken in hunger.

“You can’t be serious,” Hal says in a pained voice.

Dominic sounds a lot surer than he feels when he replies, “I am.”

Hal swallows nervously as he takes a step closer. Dominic’s eyes are drawn to Hal’s mouth, where he can just make out the tips of a pair of razor-sharp fangs. This is suddenly becoming very, very real, and Dominic inadvertently takes a small step back from the approaching predator. Hal continues to move towards him, but when he reaches the desk he stops and looks straight into Dominic’s eyes.

“Why?” he asks.

Why indeed. Every fibre in Dominic’s body tells him to run, to get away from this dangerous animal. Yet his legs will not move and he hears himself say, “I want to help you, Hal.”

Hal releases a dark chuckle. “Help me? Why would you want to help me? I thought your job was to protect humanity from creatures like me.”

Dominic feels beads of sweat collecting on his brow as he sees Hal’s eyes flash black for a fraction of a second. He clears his throat.

“I want to make sure you are safe, that you aren’t going to hurt anyone.” _No care, all responsibility._

“Oh, but I am going to hurt someone, Mr Rook. You let me do this, you have no idea what you are going to unleash.”

Despite his words, Hal is moving closer to him again, the pull of the blood obviously too strong to resist. Dominic swallows and reaches into a desk drawer, pulling out his stopwatch and a stake.

“I give you fifteen seconds,” he says. Hal’s eyes flick to the items in Dominic’s hands and he seems to let out a breath of relief at the safety net.

“Ten seconds,” he counters. His eyes are drawn to Dominic’s neck as he is drawn, step by painfully slow step, closer towards Dominic. When he is close enough to touch, Dominic brings up the stake to hold between them, and sets his stopwatch with his other hand. He can feel his hands trembling as he does so. Why is he doing this? This has never been part of any of his fantasies before, it is madness. Dominic looks up into Hal’s eyes and feels a sharp jolt of fear at seeing those empty black orbs so close. His thumb depresses the button on the stopwatch as he feels Hal’s fangs grazing the skin on his neck, just above his collarbone.

Dominic feels the fangs break through his skin and winces. The heavy, metallic tang of blood fills the air around them, and Dominic is acutely aware of the small sucking sounds Hal is making at his neck. And it _hurts_. He closes his eyes and is all but consumed by the pulsing pain in his neck when a nagging thought slowly seeps into his mind. The stopwatch. He is supposed to check the stopwatch. Ten seconds Hal said. Dominic opens his eyes. Twenty seconds and counting. With an enormous effort, he pushes the Type 2 off of him and holds the stake up between them. Hal’s eyes when he looks at him are no longer black, but his mouth and chin are covered in blood. He looks every bit the monster that Dominic knows he is, and yet... and yet there is something in his eyes when he retrieves a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wipes his mouth and says, “Thank you” in such a way that Dominic’s heart impossibly speeds up even faster and he catches himself replying, “Anytime.”

Hal’s eyes are so full of wonder that once again he finds it impossible to look away. They stand like that, looking into each other’s eyes, for several long moments. Then Dominic’s eyes inadvertently move down to Hal’s lips, which, despite having been wiped meticulously clean, still carry a hint of red that was not there before. Dominic finds himself impossibly drawn to those lips. He moves closer, faintly aware of the stake hitting the floor at their feet as his fingers release their grip on it. When his lips brush against Hal’s, they are answered by a sharp intake of breath, followed by Hal faintly asking “Rook?” against his mouth. But he continues to move his lips against Hal’s, and after a moment, he feels Hal kissing him back. His right hand, now free of the stake, comes up to cup Hal’s cheek just as Hal’s own hands brush the sides of his arms and finally come to rest on his hips. The skin of Hal’s face feels cold against his hand, a welcome contrast to the flush creeping into his own.

All too soon, Hal pulls back and gives him another curious look, before turning to leave.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he says, walking along the rows of empty shelves to the exit.

Dominic stares at his retreating back and whispers to himself, “I very much hope so.” Almost at the other end of the room, Hal turns around and winks before he disappears through the door. Damn Type 2s and their hypersensitive hearing.

Once he stops being able to hear Hal’s retreating footsteps down the corridor, Dominic takes a deep breath and shakes himself out of his stupor. Looking down, he notices the stake lying discarded at his feet, and out of the corner of his eye he sees that the still bleeding puncture wounds in his neck are slowly seeping crimson into the collar of his white shirt. Dominic picks up the handkerchief that Hal left on the desk, and presses it to the wound. It is still pulsing with a throbbing pain in rhythm with his too fast heartbeat. Dominic finds his feet and turns sharply to leave the room in pursuit of the men’s room. He just hopes that he is not going to run into anyone. Mostly everyone has left now, with the department being all but shut down, and Dominic has got quite used to being the only person here.

Once in the safe confines of the bathroom, Dominic lifts away the handkerchief to inspect the bleeding puncture wounds in the mirror. In his line of work, he has seen exactly the same kind of wound, in exactly the same place, hundreds and hundreds of times. He never once imagined he would ever see them on himself. What has gotten into him? Has he lost his mind?

Watching the slow trickle of blood still oozing from the two little punctures, he is suddenly overcome by an overwhelming wave of nausea. He has just about enough time to turn around to one of the toilet cubicles before his stomach contents start spilling out through his mouth. He heaves and heaves and doesn’t stop until there is nothing left, and all that comes up is bile and stomach acid. Taking a deep breath, Dominic gets up off his knees, flushes the toilet and turns back to the row of sinks to rinse his mouth. As he looks up from the tap, his eyes catch sight of the bite wound again and he feels another jolt of nausea deep in his gut.

He has offered Hal his blood. And more than that, he has agreed to see him again. And most terrifying of all of this, Dominic realises, is that there is a part of him that actually wants this. What he said to Hal, that he is doing it to keep him safe, is certainly the truth, but it is not the whole truth. Deep down, Dominic suddenly understands that being attracted to Hal, being attracted to a Type 2, is partly about this… that there is a part of him that _wants_ Hal to drink his blood again.

Dominic quickly wets a paper towel and carefully cleans the blood smear away from his neck, then grabs an adhesive dressing from the first aid kit on the bathroom wall, hiding away the evidence of what has just transpired.

Back at his desk, Dominic pulls out a clean white shirt from the bottom drawer and makes quick business of getting changed, rolling the blood-soaked shirt into a ball and stuffing it back into the drawer. Then he sits back down at his desk and looks for the folder he showed Hal earlier – it is nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Dominic double-checks the pile of folders on the filing cabinet. It’s definitely not there. Puzzled, Dominic decides to ask Hal about it the next time he sees him. How long can a typical Type 2 go without feeding? Two days, three? Whichever it is, he is sure he will see Hal Yorke again very soon.

***

Hal’s mind is racing. What the hell just happened? Rook invited him to drink his blood, and afterwards he kissed him. Hal struggles to concentrate with the buzz of the fresh, oh so delicious blood running through his veins. The taste of it still lingers on his tongue, seemingly sweeter than he ever tasted it before, and the vampire in him wants nothing more than to turn around and rip into Rook’s neck again. The reasonable part of his brain takes over just for long enough to set one foot in front of the other and keep moving until he is safely away from Rook, so he is unable to hear the man’s heart race so painfully fast in his chest and smell the impossible sweetness of his blood.

 _It’s the first fresh blood you’ve tasted in nearly fifty-eight years,_ his reasonable mind argues. _Of course it’s going to be irresistible. But you have to resist. For your sake. For his sake. You have to let go, and keep moving._

Holding on to this thought, Hal finally makes it out of the heavy bunker door and stumbles through the woods to his car.

Back at Honolulu Heights, Hal ignores Alex in the living room and goes straight upstairs, slamming the door to his room shut behind him and flinging himself on his sofa. He sits there for a long time, staring into space, while waiting to come down from the blood rush. He doesn’t remember much about the drive back and faintly thinks that he is lucky to have made it back at all. He has a suspicion that he ingested a fair bit more blood than he planned to. Time perception is hazy in the blood rush, but it feels like Rook let him feed for longer than intended.

Rook.

Hal’s rational mind is slowly taking over again, and he frowns at the thought of what the Man in Grey offered him. And even more importantly, what came after it. The blood is one thing – Rook explained that it was to keep him safe, to keep him from killing, _for the greater good_.

But for the life of him, Hal doesn’t understand why he kissed him afterwards.

It’s not like he has never been intimate with another man before. After living as long as he has, there is virtually nothing he hasn’t tried at least once. In this case, it has been a fair bit more than once, albeit all of them fairly short-lived affairs. The most recent and possibly most prominent one was a short but intense fling some sixty years ago involving his recently recruited solicitor.

Hal closes his eyes. Rather than thinking about Cutler, he steers his thoughts to return to Rook once more. He remembers what Alex said about the man after she had searched through his laptop. No wife, no girlfriend, no boyfriend, she said. He doesn’t even look at porn.

Yet, only about half an hour ago, Rook broke out of his self-imposed celibacy and kissed him. Hal smiles. It was a nice kiss. It was also his first proper kiss in nearly fifty-eight years.

 _Since Cutler_ , his unhelpful mind supplies, but he once again shuts it down.

And it isn’t like the man is unattractive, Hal thinks. Those blue eyes and that crisp, tailored suit certainly have something going for him. If kissing Hal is something Rook wants in return for what he is offering him, then Hal will be more than happy to oblige.

Hal sighs and leans his head back on the sofa, post-blood rush serenity washing over him. He almost forgot what this feels like. How right this feels.

“Boo!” Alex materialises right in front of him, making his heart jump into his throat.

“Alex, for the last time, don’t do this!” he yells and glares at her.

“Wow, someone’s touchy,” Alex counters and perches on the arm of the sofa furthest away from Hal. “I just heard you come back in and thought I’d check if you managed to get anything else out of Rook.”

Hal cringes inwardly at her choice of words but schools his face into perfect impassivity, shakes his head and replies, “No, nothing.”

"Aww, that’s a shame. I really thought you were getting somewhere with him,” says Alex, and then adds, “I’ve had a look through the file that he gave us—”

“He didn’t exactly give it to us, Alex,” Hal interjects, but Alex keeps talking.

“—and it’s really quite interesting. The deaths actually go all the way back to the 1920s. All involving either hotel staff or guests, each one took their own life in one of the hotel rooms. I think I should go to the hotel and have a look through their records, just to match them up with the suicides, you know?” Alex stops and, as if realising that Hal isn’t really paying her much attention, decides to poke his ribs, which actually translates as barely more than a tickle.

“Yes,” agrees Hal, “maybe you should do that.” If nothing else, that would get her off his back, and he could really do with being alone for a little while longer while still feeling the after-effects of the blood rush.

***

Waking up the next morning, Hal feels more refreshed than he has done for fifty-eight years. He lazily stretches out his arms above him and marvels at the fact that the gnawing hunger that has been his constant companion for decades has, for once, been sated. The absence of it makes him feel strangely emotional. It’s the closest he will ever get to feeling human again. He makes a mental note to thank Rook for allowing him to feel like this, even if he knows it’s not going to last. It never does.

But maybe… if he only takes just enough to keep the hunger at bay… maybe they can find a way of making him safe to be around humans without the constant battle inside of him.

Hal takes a quick look at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 9.13am. He should have been up an hour and a half ago to start his morning routine of press-ups, followed by sit-ups, followed by shower, followed by breakfast at 8.30am, followed by washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. Instead he smiles lazily up at the ceiling, no urgency at all to get up and get on with his day. He feels calm and serene and absolutely wonderful.

As always, however, the peace and quiet doesn’t last. This time the intrusion comes in the form of a careful knock on the door. Not Alex then.

“Hal, are you all right, mate?” Tom’s muffled voice comes through the door. It looks like the unusual deviation from his morning routine has not gone unnoticed.

“I’m good, Tom, thank you. Give me five minutes, I’ll see you downstairs.” Even his voice sounds strangely calm and relaxed, the usual tension and hint of exasperation gone from it.

“All right, mate,” replies Tom, and Hal hears his retreating footsteps down the hallway.

Hal reluctantly drags himself out of bed and across the hallway into the bathroom. He runs an extra hot shower for himself this morning and enjoys the way the hot water makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. How very peculiar that his body is still able to display such utterly human reactions to things when his heart beats at one beat a minute and his body temperature is maintained somewhere in the low twenties.

Hal allows himself to soak in the shower for a good ten minutes before reluctantly turning off the tap as the water begins to run cold. After a quick shave at the sink he finally makes his way downstairs to face the day.

Tom and Alex are both sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. Tom is also tucking into a bowl of Cheerios. Both of them look up as he enters the kitchen.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” asks Alex with raised eyebrows.

“Excuse me?” replies Hal, feigning ignorance.

“It’s nearly quarter to ten, Hal. You _never_ stay in bed this late,” explains Alex. “Are you… I don’t know, ill or something?” Hal opens his mouth to reply, but Alex turns towards Tom instead. “Can vampires even get ill?”

Tom shrugs. “I dunno, mate. Wouldn’t of thought so.”

“I’m not ill,” Hal announces, but it seems like no one is actually interested in listening to him as Alex is already talking again.

“Maybe it’s still the blood withdrawal,” she suggests. “Are you feeling weak? Is the hunger getting worse? Do you think we have to tie you up again?”

“I do _not_ feel weak, I am _not_ ill, and I certainly _don’t_ need you to tie me up again!” snaps Hal, finally getting his friends’ attention. “And actually, the hunger is a lot less intense than it has been for a long time.” _As in, completely absent_ , he adds silently, but that is not something he should really share with his friends.

Alex still looks suspicious as she says, “Well, that’s good then. Why do you think that is?”

It is Hal’s time to shrug as he replies, “I’m not sure exactly. But I’m certainly not going to complain.”

“No, of course not,” says Alex, and Tom nods.

Hal makes his way over to the counter and puts the kettle on. It takes less than a minute for it to come to the boil, as Alex and Tom had already made cups of tea not too long ago. He pours himself a steaming mug of Twining’s English Breakfast and pops two slices of bread into the toaster, then takes a seat next to Tom at the small kitchen table.

Tom has gone back to eating his Cheerios, but when he looks up at Alex, he notices that she is still watching him.

He gives her a quizzical look and she quickly averts her gaze, but not before he sees her ever so slightly narrowed eyes. “Nothing,” she says, too quickly to be convincing.

 _Oh, bugger,_ thinks Hal. _If Alex is already getting suspicious, this is going to be one hell of a difficult secret to keep._

Unfortunately, there is no way in hell he can tell his friends about his ‘arrangement’ with Rook. They can never, ever know he is drinking blood again, or he can expect to be staked on the spot. He will just have to keep the secret, and as much as he enjoys the freedom the absence of the hunger is giving him, it looks like he will have to continue following his routines just to not raise any more suspicion for now. Maybe, in time, he will be able to make some slow, inconspicuous changes, but for now, there is really nothing he can do.

He makes quick work of his two slices of toast and butter, before getting up off the table and announcing, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m quite behind on my morning chores.” And donning a pair of marigolds, he grabs Tom and Alex’s empty mugs from the table and starts doing the dishes without another word.


	7. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rook stands in the middle of the room, anxiously wringing his hands before burying them in his pockets. He is still wearing his usual grey trousers, waistcoat, shirt and tie, Hal notices, but without the jacket that usually completes the look. Hal’s own hands are starting to shake and he can feel a thin film of sweat breaking out on his forehead as his eyes roam from Rook’s shirt collar to his long, slim neck. He quickly tears his eyes away from Rook and glances back around the room instead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for everyone who reads and leaves kudos on this story, you're seriously making my day!
> 
> I apologise in advance for Dominic's...erm...rather unusual affinity for a certain something. It was completely not what I intended when I started writing this, but he sat whispering to me in my head for so long that I couldn't help but give in.

Chapter 7: Need

  
Warm my heart tonight  
(Force me to lose control)  
Hold my head up high  
(Watch as I lose my soul)  
Help me to survive  
(Push me until I fall)

\- Muse, “Liquid State”

  
Even though he knew it would happen, when the hunger finally does set in, Hal is still less than prepared for it. He is in the middle of inspecting a guest room that has been cleaned by one of the new housekeepers they hired recently when it overcomes him out of nowhere. White-hot and relentless, it settles into the pit of his stomach. Hal has to hold onto the chest of drawers next to him in order not to topple over where he stands. The housekeeper, who has been hovering by the door, steps into the room in alarm.

“Are you okay, sir?” she asks in a small, high-pitched voice.

Hal takes a deep breath to regain his composure, but immediately regrets it when the smell of the girl’s blood hits his nostrils. He puts a hand over his nose and mouth and gestures to the room’s ensuite bathroom before making his way in and shutting the door behind him.

Once inside, he makes sure he opens to toilet lid and does his best to fake the sounds of retching, when really all he wants to do is to tell the girl – Chelsea, is it? – to get as far away from him as she can.

Chelsea, however, has other ideas. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry sir. Can I get you anything?” she asks from the other side of the bathroom door. “A cold glass of water, maybe? Or a herbal tea?”

 _Please, for your own sake,_ Hal thinks, _just go away_. He leans his head against the large bathroom mirror in the hope that the cool glass will take away some of the burning urge inside of him, but it is no use.

“Don’t worry about me, Chelsea,” he manages to get out in a strangled voice. “I just need a minute. You get on with your work, I’ll catch you up later.”

“If you’re sure, sir,” Chelsea says, sounding uncertain.

“I’m sure.”

Hal listens for a few more minutes as her footsteps leave the room and make their way down the corridor and into one of the other bedrooms. Only when the door to the other room has closed does he allow himself to emerge from the bathroom. Out of the way of any other humans, he feels the hunger lessen to a tolerable degree, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he will lose control again. He makes his way down to reception, where Tom is sitting manning the desk.

“Tom, have you had your break yet?” he calls as he approaches the desk.

“Nah, mate, but don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m all right,” Tom answers stoically. He really is taking his position as assistant manager very seriously, Hal thinks fondly. But right now, he could really do with access to the phone without being overheard.

“Go have your break, Tom,” he insists. “I’ll take over reception until you’re back.”

Tom flashes him a big grin. “Thanks, mate.”

Hal forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

Once he is alone at the reception desk, Hal immediately reaches for the phone and dials Rook’s number. It rings a few times without anyone answering, and Hal feels an irrational surge of anger towards Rook for not picking up immediately. He of all people should know that this is an urgent matter.

After a couple more rings, he finally hears the voice at the other end answering. “Hello?”

“Rook, this is Hal. I need to see you.” No pre-amble. No beating around the bush. He gets straight to the point.

There is a short pause before Rook replies, “I see.” Hal expects him to continue, but there is another long silence. He is about to tell Rook just how urgent the situation is when the other man starts speaking again. “Hal, I’m at work at the moment, at the Archive. You really can’t keep coming to see me here.”

Hal closes his eyes briefly and replies, “I understand that.”

“I could come to see you at the B&B?” Rook suggests.

Hal gives a short, hollow laugh. “Ah, that… is a very bad idea. My housemates…”

“Of course, I completely understand,” answers Rook. Then, after another short pause, “I suppose you could come to my flat.”

Hal swallows. The thought of going to see Rook at his home somehow makes the whole situation a whole lot more intimate. “I suppose,” he says noncommittally.

“All right then,” Rook says, and Hal, despite his current preoccupation, notices that he has suddenly started sounding nervous. “I’ll be at work for the next few hours. How about you come by around six?”

“Hmm.” Hal steals a look at the reception clock. It’s five past one in the afternoon. That’s almost five hours. But he knows he has no other choice. Short of assaulting Rook at the Archive, waiting is going to be his only option. “Okay.”

Rook gives him the address of his Cardiff flat, and Hal briefly wonders when the last time was that he had Leo’s old Mercedes serviced. It’s a good half hour drive to Cardiff, which is certainly more than the old car has done in a good long while. But be that as it may, this is a matter of utmost urgency.

 _I’m sure Leo would be delighted that his car is going to be used for this particular purpose,_ a cruel little voice at the back of his mind pipes up. Hal actually gives a mirthless little chuckle at the thought.

“Something funny?” Rook asks.

“No. Never mind. I’ll see you at six.” After a moment, just before Rook can hang up, he quickly adds, “Thank you.”

A beat, then, “You’re welcome.”

Hal hangs up the phone just in time for Tom to come back from his break. Hal quickly lets him know that he will be away this evening as he has ‘business to attend to’. Tom being Tom doesn’t really question him, which is just as well. Alex, he is sure, will be a lot less inclined to just let it go.

***

As it turns out, Alex isn’t even at Honolulu Heights when Hal comes home from his shift at the hotel that night. He managed to largely stay away from people for the remainder of his shift, helped by Chelsea telling all the other hotel staff that he has the norovirus and is probably contagious. Luckily, Tom just shrugged the news off with the explanation that Hal is in one of his ‘moods’ and feels like he needs to stay away from people. Hal has to admit to himself that he appreciates just how gullible his friend is, even though he hates having to take advantage of it.

Now making his way into the living room at Honolulu Heights, he finds a note from Alex on the bar saying that she has gone to Scotland to ‘visit’ her family. She has been starting to do this more recently, and Hal still isn’t entirely sure whether it’s a healthy thing for her to do or not. Tonight, however, he is incredibly relieved not to have to explain to her where he is taking the car so late in the day.

He quickly changes out of his suit, then decides to have another quick shower and shave before grabbing the car keys from the little bowl on the bar in the living room and driving Leo’s baby blue Mercedes along the A4050 towards Cardiff.

***

Hal doesn’t even have to ring the doorbell. Rook’s door opens as soon as he arrives on the landing.

“Hal,” Rook greets him. He has a tense, wary look about him, very different from the self-assured man he saw in the Archive four days ago.

“Rook,” Hal replies, inclining his head.

Without saying anything else or making eye contact, Rook turns around and steps back into the hallway of his flat, obviously expecting Hal to follow. Hal leans against the doorway and waits for a long moment, but Rook does not turn back around or say another word. Hal rolls his eyes and clears his throat loudly. When Rook finally does turn around to look at him, Hal gives him what he hopes is a meaningful look.

It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place, and he can see it on Rook’s face when they do.

“I’m so sorry, Hal. Please, come in,” he says formally, and Hal steps over the threshold into the wide hallway. Rook’s cheeks have gone red with a fresh influx of blood, and Hal can feel the hunger flaring up inside of him at the sight. Rook clears his throat and says, “I can’t believe I forgot – please forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Hal dismissively, following Rook into the spacious living room. The room is decorated in light, airy blues and whites, clean lines without being too sterile, cosy without being stifling. Hal instantly likes it. There is a large, old, white-painted fireplace at the centre of the left wall, and above it hangs a large, ornate mirror. Hal notices Rook stealing nervous glances back and forth between him and the mirror, and it makes him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Rook stands in the middle of the room, anxiously wringing his hands before burying them in his pockets. He is still wearing his usual grey trousers, waistcoat, shirt and tie, Hal notices, but without the jacket that usually completes the look. Hal’s own hands are starting to shake and he can feel a thin film of sweat breaking out on his forehead as his eyes roam from Rook’s shirt collar to his long, slim neck. He quickly tears his eyes away from Rook and glances back around the room instead.

“Please, Hal, have a seat,” Rook says into the silence, his voice sounding abrupt and ever so slightly strangled, like he is talking around a lump in his throat. Hal does as he is told and takes a seat on the large white three-seater. “Can I offer you anything?” Rook blurts out, then pales as he realises his poor choice of words.

Hal shakes his head, pretending he hasn’t noticed, and averts his eyes again. Rather than sitting down himself, Rook remains standing in the middle of the room. Hal is acutely aware of his heart rate increasing the longer he is standing there.

 _This is so much more awkward than the last time,_ Hal thinks anxiously. _What if he changes his mind?_

But just in that moment, Rook finally springs into action. He crosses the room with determined steps and comes to sit next to Hal. Not close enough for it to be uncomfortable, but also not exactly at the other end of the sofa. Well, that’s a start then. Hal steals a glance at Rook, who swallows repeatedly, staring out in front of him. His hand comes up to the buttons on his waistcoat, undoing them in a practised motion before carefully folding and placing it down on the sofa next to him. He then reaches up to his shirt collar and slightly loosens his tie before opening the first two buttons. Hal’s eyes fall on the slightly raised, pink marks on his neck where he bit into it four days ago. Still, Rook does not look at him. He swallows again, almost compulsively, pulls the stopwatch from his trouser pocket and picks up a stake from the coffee table that Hal didn’t even notice being there. Holding the stake in his left hand, he takes a deep, deliberate breath and says, “There you go.”

Hal moves ever so slightly closer on the sofa, drawn in by the deafening sound of Rook’s racing heartbeat. Just as his gaze shifts to black, his fangs unsheathe and he is about to lean his head down to claim Rook’s neck, the other man finally steals a glance in his direction, eyes wide and fearful, but there is also something else there, something Hal can’t really put a finger on in his current state, even though he is sure he has seen it before.

The next moment, all rational thought leaves Hal’s mind as he sinks his fangs into Rook’s soft, pale skin. He feels the other man stiffen under him for the briefest moment before relaxing against him. Pure, sweet, delicious human blood floods his mouth, and Hal swallows greedily. How has he managed for so long without this?

All too soon, Hal feels Rook’s insistent hands pushing him away. He lifts his head away from his neck and lets it flop sideways onto the backrest of the sofa, too sated and happy to move another inch.

This time, Rook doesn’t even wait for him to wipe his mouth clean before his lips are on Hal’s, urgent and demanding. Hal lets out a low moan at the sudden assault, and Rook takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue in between his lips. The sweet taste of Rook’s blood is still on Hal’s tongue and he is acutely aware that Rook will be able to taste it, too. Hal’s hand goes to the back of Rook’s head and grabs a fistful of blond hair, pulling him closer towards him, savouring the kiss.

When Rook pulls back, his lips are smeared with his own blood. He is breathless, chest heaving, eyes wide as saucers as he starts to realise what he has just done. In this moment, with his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his shirt half undone, he looks utterly beautiful to Hal.

“Dominic,” he breathes, and he likes the way the name rolls off his tongue before he captures Dominic’s crimson lips in another kiss.

When thinking back later, Hal will probably blame the blood rush for what happens next. He feels the sudden overwhelming urge to feel skin. His fingers go to work on Dominic’s shirt buttons, undoing them one by one, until he comes to a stop just above his belt buckle. From there his hand goes roaming back up over Dominic’s slim stomach and chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple and earning a sharp intake of breath from Dominic. He watches Dominic’s shirt fall aside in the wake of his exploring hand, and it reveals a small silver cross pendant around the man’s neck on a silver chain. Hal pauses for a moment, then reaches out and touches the tip of his index finger to the cross, almost defiantly, before his hand moves south again, to the waistband of Dominic’s trousers, and he feels the man tense up under him. He pulls back for just a moment to look up into Dominic’s face. His eyes are so wide that it makes him look almost childlike, and a sudden, urgent thought enters Hal’s mind.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks softly. Despite keeping his voice down, it still sounds deafening in the complete silence of the room.

Dominic swallows nervously once more and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Do you want to?”

A barely there nod. Dominic’s voice seems to have abandoned him.

Hal looks deep into Dominic’s blue eyes when he replies, “Okay then.”

He moves in for another kiss to put Dominic at ease before moving his hand back down to his belt buckle. Slowly, ever so slowly, he undoes the belt, followed by the button and zip on Dominic’s grey trousers. A gasp, but Dominic doesn’t pull away.

“Relax,” Hal breathes against Dominic’s mouth, and takes his bottom lip between his teeth, nipping it ever so slightly. This actually elicits a little moan from Dominic, and Hal takes it as a sign that he is ready to continue. He moves his lips down from Dominic’s mouth to his neck, where he pauses briefly to lap up some of the blood that is still trickling from the two little puncture wounds, before placing little kisses and nips along Dominic’s neck and jaw line. At the same time, his hand reaches slowly down into Dominic’s trousers and pushes away the elastic of his briefs before his fingers carefully close around his erection. There is another moan from Dominic, followed by a tiny, high-pitched whimper as Hal starts to slowly move his hand up and down Dominic’s cock. Encouraged by the effect his ministrations are having on the other man, Hal speeds up his movements, all the while continuing to place little kisses along Dominic’s jaw.

One of Dominic’s hands comes up to cup Hal’s face, and he tips his chin up to once again connect their lips together. Dominic, Hal muses, seems to have a particular fondness for Hal’s mouth. Not that he is going to complain in the slightest, he thinks, as Dominic’s tongue slips out to caress Hal’s bottom lip, and Hal opens his mouth to meet it with his own.

Hal’s hand continues to move up and down Dominic’s cock, thumb flicking up to the head to spread around some of the pre-come gathering there. He may be slightly out of practice, but the little noises he continues to elicit from Dominic certainly tell him that he’s on the right track.

“Hal,” Dominic breathes into his mouth, the first coherent word he has said since before they started.

“Just relax and let go, Dominic,” Hal whispers back. “Just let yourself go.”

He shifts slightly backwards, so he can watch Dominic’s face while he continues to move his hand up and down his hard length. Dominic’s eyes are glassy and unfocussed, and he nervously flicks his tongue over his blood-stained lips. With another swift flick of Hal’s wrist, Dominic suddenly tenses up, breath hitching in his throat, before squeezing his eyes tightly shut and releasing a high-pitched moan as he spills his come over Hal’s hand, spurts of it landing on the pale skin of his stomach.

Hal slows his movements as he feels Dominic slowly softening in his hand. He keeps his fingers wrapped loosely around his cock while Dominic catches his breath, eyes still tightly shut. Hal’s other hand has come to rest at the back of Dominic’s neck, where he is gently caressing the blond man’s short hair.

They sit like this for a long moment before Dominic’s eyes fly open, wide and terrified. They flick down to where Hal’s hand is still resting in his crotch, then nervously dart around the room, anywhere but at Hal.

“Tissues,” he croaks, barely in control of his own voice still. “On the table.”

Hal lets go of Dominic and leans forward to retrieve the box of tissues from the coffee table. He pulls out a couple of tissues to clean his own hand and to wipe the remaining blood from his mouth, then holds it out to Dominic, who swiftly takes a handful of tissues and starts cleaning the mess from his stomach, all the while still looking anywhere but at Hal. Once he is happy that the evidence of his release has sufficiently been cleaned away, he balls up the used tissues and places them back on the coffee table. He clears his throat loudly and starts buttoning up his shirt and trousers.

“Dominic—” Hal starts, but is cut off almost immediately.

“Don’t, please, Hal.” There is a tinge of panic in Dominic’s voice. “I think… I think you should leave now.”

Hal, slightly taken aback by his reaction, tries again. “Dominic, please listen.”

The other man gets up and walks over to the fireplace, his back to Hal, but doesn’t say anything more. Hal takes this as an invitation to continue.

“If I did anything you didn’t want – I apologise, that wasn’t my intention,” he says carefully.

Dominic keeps his back to him, but gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t.”

“But then, what—”

“I just need a moment,” Dominic interjects, then adds in a calmer voice, “I’m sorry, Hal, but I really need to be alone right now. It’s nothing you did, it’s just – there are a lot of things that I need to get my head around.” He turns around and fixes his impossibly blue eyes on Hal. “I hope you understand that.”

“Of course,” Hal nods and gets to his feet. He follows Dominic down the long hallway to the front door. While stepping past the blond man, Hal’s eyes fall on the two red streaks running down his neck. “You should put something on that,” he says, gesturing to Dominic’s neck.

Dominic nods sharply. “I will.”

There is a long pause while they both just stand there at the open front door. Hal’s blood-addled brain insists that he wants to kiss Dominic again before he leaves, but the rational part of him knows that that would be a very bad idea right now. Instead, he clears his throat and says, “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, I guess you will,” says Dominic, his voice too loud in the quiet hallway.

With another quick nod of his head, Hal steps through the door onto the landing and hears the heavy wooden door fall shut behind him.

***

Dominic lets the door fall into the latch and leans his forehead against the cold wood. The events of the last half hour are whirling around and around in his head to the point that it makes him dizzy. He quickly flicks his tongue over his lips in a nervous habit and is startled to find that his lips taste of copper and salt. He brings a finger up to his mouth and stares at it as it comes away red with his own blood. He waits for the familiar wave of nausea to settle in, but it never comes. Instead, the flutter in his stomach that he has felt ever since Hal called his mobile this afternoon intensifies, and it’s not altogether unpleasant.

Dominic takes himself into the bathroom and looks at his dishevelled reflection for a long moment. He completely lost control today, he realises, completely gave himself over to the need dictated to him by his strange new obsession. Truth is that he has never felt as alive as when he was sitting on that sofa with Hal. He has never before allowed himself to _feel_ so much, and the experience was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Tearing his eyes away from his reflection, Dominic starts stripping off his shirt, trousers and underwear and steps into the shower. The hot water stings as it hits the two little wounds in his neck, and looking down, Dominic can see a slightly pink tinge to the water where his blood is being washed away from his face and neck.

 _How can you possibly think this is a good idea?_ The voice at the back of his mind, the one he has always relied upon as the voice of reason, pipes up. _Do you honestly think you alone will be able to keep him going? Hal Yorke, Old One, one of the most powerful Type 2s still alive in the world? Do you not think he will move on from you eventually, that ten seconds' worth of blood here and there is not going to satisfy his hunger forever?_

Dominic closes his eyes, replaying their earlier encounter in his mind, and he decides that, whatever the distant future holds, for now this is exactly what he wants. He _wants_ Hal, he wants to help him with his bloodlust, and above all else he wants to _feel_ that way again. The way that only Hal can make him feel.

***

For the next few days, Dominic finds himself on an emotional rollercoaster, his feelings permanently cycling between exhilaration, fear, terror and utter revulsion at what he has let himself into.

Sitting at his desk in the now very empty Archive, he finds it almost impossible to focus on the file in front of him when thoughts of Hal invade his head every few seconds. Sighing, he places the file he is reading down on his desk, sits back and runs his hands over his face in exasperation.

He has been trying for the last week and a half, since his unsettling encounter with Captain Hatch, to find something, anything, about the possibility of demonic possession of humans. As far as he is aware, there is a total of four types of supernaturals – ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and, as proven a couple of years ago in an isolated incident in Barry, zombies. Try as he might, he cannot find evidence anywhere of a fifth type. At the same time, he knows what he has seen, and what happened in that hotel room that night was _definitely_ supernatural.

And he doesn’t even only mean the way that Captain Hatch got right at the end, but the whole evening now appears to be veiled in some kind of strange, supernatural shroud whenever he tries to think back to it. As if he was under some sort of spell ever since he first set foot in Hatch’s room.

But how? What creature could possibly have that kind of power over a human mind?

Dominic presses the heels of his palms into his tired eyes before dropping his hands back down to rest on his desk. His eyes fall on a thick file at the bottom of a pile at the back of his desk. A few yellowed pages have come loose from it and are poking out of the side of the file. He pulls it out from the pile and opens it gingerly.

The old photograph of Hal’s portrait stares back at him. Dominic looks at the picture for a very long moment, remembering the first time he ever saw it. Remembering thinking that a monster like Hal Yorke could not possibly possess such kind, beautiful eyes. He knows better now. Knows how the monster is able to draw you in, until you are completely at its mercy. Until you willingly give yourself over to it.

That’s the kind of power some supernaturals can have over a human mind.

He runs his hand over the picture almost reverently before removing the paper clip that attaches it to the page underneath and slipping the picture into his desk drawer. His hands start idly flicking through the thick file that documents the many horrendous deeds of subject #SJ031. Five centuries worth of cruelty and carnage… he still struggles to integrate what is written on these pages with the man who sat next to him on his sofa a couple of days ago, showering his face with soft feather kisses.

A thought suddenly occurs to Dominic. Hal spent the last five hundred years in the supernatural world. Surely, in all that time, he would have come across every kind of supernatural phenomenon there ever was?

It might be worth asking Hal some questions about what he experienced at the hotel that night. Obviously he will have to be very careful not to give too much away about his involvement in the Bobby incident. But if there is anyone who may be able to help him with this, it is most certainly Hal.

 _And not to forget that it also gives you a very valid excuse to call him again,_ that disruptive little voice adds. He has to admit that he doesn’t completely disagree with the sentiment.

Dominic picks his mobile up from the desk and browses through his contacts to find Hal’s number when his phone suddenly starts vibrating in his hand and his ring tone echoes in the silence of the vast, empty room.

Dominic quickly glances at the big white letters that have appeared on the screen.

_Natasha calling…_


	8. Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'Can I meet you at the hotel?' he finally suggests.
> 
> There is silence at the other end for a little while. Hal is obviously thinking about this option.
> 
> 'Why can’t I just come to your place again?' counters Hal. A fair question, Dominic reasons.
> 
> 'I’m sorry, Hal, but you really can’t. I’ll explain everything when I see you.' That has to be good enough for now.
> 
> 'Okay then,' Hal agrees. 'How quickly can you get there?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big Thank You to the lovely Anon who commented on Chapter 7 - this one is for you :)

Oh how beauty burns  
Lips and eyes and fingertips  
The spark of desire  
On every point our bodies meet  
Behind your eyes were stars  
Infinite and serene  
How I would suffer for you  
You fascinate and magnetise me

\- Bloc Party, “Halo”

  
Dominic stares at the screen for a long moment before pressing the little button to accept the call.

“Hello?” he answers guardedly.

“Dominic?” Natasha’s voice is frantic and breathless, as if she has been running. “Dominic, I need to come and see you.”

“What’s going on, Tasha?” he asks urgently. What kind of trouble has she gotten herself into now?

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. All I really need you to know is that I have to get away from here, and I have nowhere else to go. It would only be for a few days, I promise!”

Dominic squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before replying. “Where are you now?”

“I’m at the train station, I’ll get on the first train to Cardiff. Please, Dominic!”

It sounds like he hasn’t got much of a choice. Over the years, there have been countless incidences of Natasha getting into trouble, both with her long string of different foster families and more and more frequently also with the police. Dominic has always been her safety net, her go-to person when everything else around her seems to fall apart.

Under normal circumstances he would not think twice about letting her stay with him for a few days before they manage to either defuse the situation or find a new place for her to go. But with recent… developments, it would be hugely awkward for him to have a house guest. How is he supposed to keep Hal a secret from Natasha if she is sleeping on his sofa?

“Ah, Tasha… is there really nowhere else you can go?” he tries, but Natasha’s voice is almost hysterical when she replies.

“No! You know I haven’t got anyone else, and I really need to get away from this place. Ben is pissed off with me, he’s going to fucking kill me when he finds me. Please, Dominic! You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t super urgent. It’s only going to be for a few days, I promise!”

It’s the first he has ever heard about this ‘Ben’ character, and Dominic is sure she didn’t mean to mention his name, but a white-hot rage flares up inside Dominic when he thinks that this guy has been hurting Natasha. And how can he possibly deny her after this?

“Of course, Tasha. Let me know when your train is due at Cardiff Central, I’ll come and meet you there.”

***

Dominic casually leans against the side of his silver Lexus when he catches the first glimpse of the petit twenty-two-year-old woman in a flowery dress that is too short for the season and is therefore compensated for by a pair of thick black over-knee socks.

Natasha grins and waves to him when she spots him standing by his car. He gives a half-hearted little wave back and cracks a small smile.

“Hi, Dominic,” she calls as she approaches him.

“I take it you had a good journey?” he asks when she reaches the car.

Natasha nods.

“And you’re sure no one saw you leave or followed you here?”

Another nod. “I’m sure. I do know how to be careful, you know.”

Dominic smiles. “I know.”

They store Natasha’s heavy bag away in the boot and get into car.

“So, what’s new with you?” asks Natasha, drumming her fingers on the passenger door and looking out the window as they weave through the busy city traffic.

“Oh, you know, same old—” Dominic starts, but is cut off by Natasha, who whirls around to face him.

“Bullshit!” she exclaims.

“Language, Natasha!” Dominic shoots back almost automatically.

In a much calmer tone, Natasha continues, “I’ve heard about the Government cuts. Don’t tell me that none of that affects you.”

“Tasha…” he tries to placate her, but she is having none of it.

“I know your department is secret and all, which is why it hasn’t been mentioned in any of the news reports, but from what I’ve seen, nothing has escaped unscathed. So don’t tell me ‘same old’ as if I’m still a child and you’re trying to protect me. I want to know the truth.”

Dominic heaves a deep sigh. “You are right, Tasha. You deserve to know the truth.”

“How bad is it?” Natasha asks, biting her lip.

He gives her a sideways glance, sees her looking at him with a small frown on her face. “My department has been dissolved.”

"Shit,” Natasha says flatly, and Dominic can’t even bring himself to scold her again.

“I believe ‘shit’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he says impassively, training his eyes back on the road.

He can feel her eyes on him for a long moment before she speaks again. “You’ve changed.”

“How so?” Dominic asks almost automatically.

“I don’t know, but you’re… different, somehow.”

 _You have no idea,_ Dominic thinks, but he is not going to go down that route now.

“Losing your life’s work kind of does that to a man, Tasha,” he says.

There is a moment’s silence. “I guess it would,” she finally replies, but she is still giving him that look and Dominic is sure that there is more that she isn’t saying. The puncture marks under his shirt collar start itching uncomfortably, and he painfully grips the steering wheel to keep himself from scratching them.

They sit in silence for the remainder of the journey, Natasha turning back around to look out the passenger side window.

Dominic’s phone rings in his pocket, but he purposely ignores it. Whoever it is will have to wait. He’s got his Tasha to take care of.

***

Hal drops the receiver back on the hook with a loud clang. Three times he has tried to call Dominic now, and each time the call has gone to voicemail. All the while the hunger is gnawing away at his insides and the urge to go and rip some complete stranger’s throat out becomes more and more difficult to ignore.

“Who ya ringin’?” Tom walks in from the kitchen, two bowls in hand. He places the bowls down and pulls three plates out of the cabinet. Alex may not be able to eat, but she always gets her place set at the dinner table.

“Oh, just the hotel,” Hal lies and comes over to give Tom a hand setting the table. Peering into the two bowls, he sees that one of them contains spaghetti, while the other is filled with a nondescript bright red sauce that gets Hal’s imagination going. The white-hot poker in his gut is flaring up painfully and he winces.

“You all right, mate?” Tom asks, concern evident in his voice.

Oh, how he hates lying to his friends. “Yes, I’m fine, Tom. Don’t worry about me.”

Tom’s eyebrows draw together as he studies him intently. “You been actin’ right weird lately, ya know that? Like when you accidentally had that Kia-Ora at the hotel.” Hal watches with bated breath and a guilty conscience as his friend jumps to the wrong conclusion. “Hold on, have you been havin’ it again? I thought you’d be more careful like after what happened the last time and that.” Even though it comes out as an accusation, Hal gladly accepts it if that means that Tom will drop the matter of his odd, fluctuating behaviour over this last week.

With a big, dramatic sigh, he confesses, “Yes, Tom, I’ve been having it again. One of the new kitchen staff accidentally gave me a glass of it when I asked for orange squash. I should’ve checked, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Tom gives him a very disappointed look. “You really ‘ave to do better than that, mate.”

“I know, Tom. Really, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” The shame in his voice is real, even though what he is saying isn’t. He hates himself for having given in to his weakness like this.

“What won’t happen again?” Alex asks, coming into the room from the hallway.

“Hal’s been on the Kia-Ora again,” accuses Tom, and Hal hangs his head.

“It won’t happen again,” Hal repeats.

“It better not,” says Alex with raised eyebrows. “Now, what’s for dinner?”

The three friends sit down at the dinner table, passing around bowls and filling their plates with spaghetti and tomato sauce. Hal still has a difficult time looking at the food on his plate without picturing Dominic’s perfect long neck in his mind’s eye, a trickle of red from two small puncture wounds slowly making its way down. Where the hell is Dominic? Why isn’t he answering his phone? Is he avoiding him after what happened the other day?

“You not hungry, Hal?”

Hal looks up to see Alex watching him. “What? Why?”

“All you’ve been doing for the past five minutes is push your food around the plate. You should be grateful you can still eat.”

The truth is that Hal really isn’t hungry. Not for spaghetti, anyway. Nevertheless, he twirls a big bunch of spaghetti onto his fork and stuffs it into his mouth, raising his eyebrows at Alex.

“Happy now?” he challenges her.

“You really have been on the Kia-Ora, haven’t you?” she sighs. “You’re a right arse when you’re like that.”

“Alex, I’ve already said I’m sorry,” Hal says defensively. “Several times, actually. Can we please just let it go.”

“Okay, okay.” Alex holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not the one acting like a bratty child.”

Hal, busy with chewing his spaghetti, which in all honesty taste like sandpaper in his mouth, rolls his eyes at her but nods.

“Thank you,” says Alex, still sounding slightly exasperated.

“Guys, can we not just have a nice meal together ever?” laments Tom around a mouthful of food. “Havin’ you two together in the house is like bein’ caught in a constant bitch fight. I’m actually kinda glad that things didn’t work out between you two. Ya know, romantic-like.” With both Alex and Hal’s raised eyebrows on him, he quickly snaps his mouth shut.

“Anyway,” says Alex in a falsely cheery voice and stands up. “I’ve got things to get on with. I will see you boys later.”

Hal drops his fork on the plate and exhales a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. Turning to Tom, he asks, “Any idea what ‘things’ she has got to get on with?”

“She’s still lookin’ into the suicides, innit?” says Tom like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you know if she’s found anything?” he asks, trying to occupy his mind with anything other than thoughts of blood.

“I dunno, mate. She don’t really tell me much. It seems like she still thinks Hatch has got something to do with it, but that’s all I know. Maybe ask her yourself.”

Hal nods and gets up, stacking the plates and empty bowls to take them through to the kitchen. “I think I will.” _But not before I try to call Dominic again,_ he silently adds. His hands are shaking, he notices as he drops the small pile of dishes into the sink. He briefly looks at the marigolds, but then decides that the dishes can wait. He has more important matters to take care of.

***

Dominic puts down the two mugs of steaming tea on the coffee table and sits down across from Natasha, who is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the big three-seater.

“Thanks,” she says, leaning forward to pick up her mug.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Dominic says casually, taking a careful sip of tea.

Natasha cradles the mug in both of her hands and stares into it, not looking up at him as she answers, “There’s this guy—”

“Ben,” Dominic says, remembering the name she let slip on the phone earlier.

“Yeah. He… me and him were… together, I guess, for a while. He seemed nice at first, but…” She trails off, and they sit for a moment in silence. Dominic has no desire to push her to continue, confident that she will talk when she is ready to. She always does. He feels like he pretty much knows where this is going anyway. It’s by no means the first time he sits here with her like this, and it saddens him that she has been through so many bad experiences in her short life. He notices Natasha’s posture changing ever so slightly, her head lifting from her mug to look at him for a fleeting second, then darting around the room and coming to rest on some point on the mantelpiece before continuing. “Basically, he turned out to be really possessive and jealous, to the point that I wasn’t even allowed to talk to another guy without him, you know, getting weird about it. So last night, we were out and I ran into this guy I’d worked with for a while at this bar, and he started talking to me, and Ben just… he lost it. First he beat up the guy, and then he turned on me, and I swear he would’ve… so basically, I did what you taught me and I defended myself, and I ran… I spent the night at the train station, and then I called you as soon as I could.” She looks directly at Dominic now. “And that’s it, really.”

Dominic heaves a deep sigh. “Tasha, what is it with you and completely unsuitable men?”

A small smile appears on Natasha’s face at his comment. “Jealous?” she asks, and only now does he notice the glint in her eyes that accompanied the smile.

He rolls his eyes. “Hardly.”

A shadow of something flits across Natasha’s face, but it is gone before he can really figure out its significance. “Anyway, enough about me. What are you going to do now?” she says after a moment.

Dominic realises she is talking about his work now and takes a deep breath to calm himself before answering. “There is an opening at Defra, apparently,” he starts, trying to keep the contempt out of his voice. Luckily, he is saved any further explanations as his phone starts ringing once more. Taking a quick look at the screen, he sees that the Caller ID says _Honolulu Heights_. “Excuse me, I think I should get that,” he quickly announces as he gets up and moves across the hallway into his study.

He makes sure the door to the study is shut and moves across the room to perch on the windowsill. Only then does he allow himself to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Dominic, what the hell is going on? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all day!” Hal’s voice is urgent and desperate, and it makes Dominic’s heart speed up painfully in his chest.

“I- I’m sorry Hal, I had some… urgent business to take care of.”

“Urgent business?” Hal’s tone is biting. “Well, I hope you’ve finished whatever it was you were doing because I really need to see you.”

Dominic’s mind goes into overdrive. There is no way that Hal can come here while Natasha is around. At the same time, he is acutely aware that he has to see him very soon if he wants to prevent Hal attacking another human.

“Can I meet you at the hotel?” he finally suggests.

There is silence at the other end for a little while. Hal is obviously thinking about this option.

“Why can’t I just come to your place again?” counters Hal. A fair question, Dominic reasons.

“I’m sorry, Hal, but you really can’t. I’ll explain everything when I see you.” That has to be good enough for now.

“Okay then,” Hal agrees. “How quickly can you get there?”

  
***

Walking into the hotel foyer, Dominic spots Hal sitting behind the reception desk looking fidgety and pale in his black suit and red tie. Hal’s red-rimmed eyes seem to light up when he sees him, and Dominic can’t help but crack a small smile at the sight.

Hal obviously does his very best to sound professional as he says, “Good evening, Mr Rook. Your room is all ready and waiting for you. You are in Room 16, first floor, end of the corridor on your right-hand side.” He flashes Dominic a friendly, slightly forced looking smile, but his eyes tell a different story as he adds, under his breath, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thank you,” says Dominic with an incline of his head, keeping up the act as best he can, for Hal’s sake.

He takes the key Hal is holding out to him, and notices the Type 2’s hand shaking slightly as he does so. A small frown forms on his face as he wonders why Hal’s withdrawal is so bad after such a short time. It’s only been three days this time around – last time they went for four, and he wasn't anywhere near as bad.

He lets himself into ‘his’ hotel room, a bland looking, beige room with a king size bed against the back wall that takes up the majority of the space, as well as a very small desk and a pair of armchairs with a small round table in one corner. Dominic sits down on the end of the bed, facing the door, while he waits for Hal to arrive.

Ten minutes pass, and there is no sign of the Type 2. Dominic, unsure of whether he should go back downstairs to investigate, gets up off the bed and walks over to the small desk, which is positioned in front of the only window in the room. The window overlooks the front of the building, which means that during day time the guests would be treated to sea views. Unfortunately, it is well after sunset and Dominic can’t really see much of anything.

Dominic starts pacing up and down the room, then stops at one of the armchairs to carefully take off his suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, before sitting back down on the bed. His mind is a whirlwind of anticipation, excitement and dread, and he closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths to calm his frayed nerves.

His head shoots up when he hears a key turning in the lock. The door swings open and Hal lets himself into the room in one swift motion.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. Dominic can see beads of sweat standing on his brow. “Sorry it took so long, I was held up by one of the other guests.”

At this, Dominic perks up. “Not Captain Hatch, was it?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Hal narrows his eyes at him. “How do you know Captain Hatch?”

“Oh, you know,” Dominic can’t stop the nervous laugh from leaving his mouth. “Ran into him when I came here to pick up Bobby. He challenged me to a game of cards.”

“Did he now,” says Hal, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Dominic nods emphatically. “Yes. Yes, he did.” He suddenly feels flushed and hot and his hand comes up to open the first two buttons on his shirt. Immediately, Hal’s gaze zooms in on his neck, and his own eyes nervously dart between Hal and the bed.

Hal crosses the small space between the door and the bed and sits down next to Dominic. To Dominic’s immense surprise, Hal places his hand over Dominic’s own, which has stilled somewhere at the level of his collarbones.

“Allow me,” Hal says, and moves Dominic’s hand down into his lap, where his other hand already rests holding his stopwatch, before continuing to unbutton Dominic’s shirt. Before he even fully comprehends what is happening, Hal is pushing his shirt back over his shoulders, and Dominic fully shrugs out of it before discarding it on the bed next to him. “That’s better,” Hal says in a quiet voice. “Don’t want your shirt to get ruined every time we do this.”

Dominic’s eyes come up to meet Hal’s hazel ones, and he holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he watches as right before his eyes the Type 2’s eyes shift to black and his fangs unsheathe. The next moment, Hal leans down and his fangs sink into Dominic’s neck once more.

Only when the ten seconds are up and Dominic pushes Hal back does he realise that he didn’t even bring a stake with him tonight. Careless and unforgivable. But then again, Hal has so far proven to be trustworthy.

Dominic looks around to where Hal has fallen back on the bed, licking the last remainders of blood from his lips. Dominic gets up and walks over to the desk, where there is a box of paper tissues. He takes one of the tissues and presses it to his neck, then brings the box over to the bed and offers it to Hal. He would rather do without a repeat of what happened three days ago. Hal gratefully accepts a couple of tissues and wipes his mouth clean, but makes no move to get back up from where he is lying on the bed.

Dominic, in a split-second decision, finds himself crawling onto the bed next to Hal, and his hands come up to his tie while his head comes to rest on the pillow next to Hal’s. The Type 2 is unmoving and boneless, his eyes glassy, pupils blown. Such a stark contrast to the nervous and fidgety Hal he saw in the foyer not twenty minutes ago. Dominic swallows, relishing the thought that his blood, that he has done this to Hal.

“Allow me,” Dominic repeats Hal’s phrase from earlier, and in a practised movement removes the tie and begins to unbutton Hal’s shirt. He pulls Hal up into a sitting position just for long enough to push his suit jacket and shirt down his shoulders, and they soon join Dominic’s shirt on the far side of the bed. As Hal lies back down on the bed, Dominic allows himself a moment to sit and admire Hal’s perfectly toned chest, his smooth skin, so very, very pale and gorgeous, like a statue. Suddenly feeling self-conscious of his own slim frame, he begins to pull away, but Hal grabs hold of one of his hands and pulls him back down.

“Where are you off to?” he mumbles and brings a hand up to the back of Dominic’s head. Holding him in position on the bed, he moves his head closer and gently, almost shyly, touches his lips to Dominic’s. It’s the first time since they started doing this that Dominic has not been the one to initiate the kiss, and it makes his stomach flutter almost unbearably. A small moan escapes his lips, and Hal takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in between his lips, probing, exploring his mouth. Dominic feels a shiver run down his spine at the touch, and he firmly grips the back of Hal’s head with his right hand, holding him in place, while his own tongue moves to meet Hal’s, dances around it for a moment before pushing back, into Hal’s own mouth, and he runs his tongue over Hal’s perfect teeth, and deeper into the wet warmth that still tastes coppery and salty in that way that his mind associates exclusively with Hal, even though rationally he knows it’s his own blood he is tasting.

Hal’s hand has moved down from his head to his neck, he notices, fingers lingering over his pulse point for a long moment before wandering further down, tracing the silver chain around his neck to the small cross lying between his collarbones. Just like he did the other day, he touches one finger to it briefly, like he wants to reassure himself that he can. Then his hand is wandering again, thumb brushing over Dominic’s right nipple in the lightest of touches that sends an electric impulse straight down into his groin, and he hears himself moaning into Hal’s mouth. Hal chuckles lightly in return.

“Like that, do you?” he says, his tone teasing, but his thumb returns to his nipple to brush over it again, a little bit firmer.

Dominic nods jerkily, not trusting himself to speak.

Suddenly, Hal pulls back, and Dominic wonders if he has done something wrong, but Hal is not moving away, is merely moving his head down, and a moment later, he can feel a very different sensation as Hal’s mouth closes around his nipple, wet tongue flicking over it once, twice, before Hal nips it ever so slightly with his teeth, and Dominic positively screams out.

Hal moves his head away from his chest, and Dominic whimpers slightly at the loss of contact, eyes flicking down and meeting Hal’s. Hal is smiling, obviously pleased with his achievement. He holds Dominic’s eyes for a long moment before moving back down again, and capturing Dominic’s other nipple in his mouth.

Dominic has been so distracted by Hal’s mouth on him that he hasn’t even noticed Hal’s hand continue its journey down until there is a familiar tug at his belt buckle. Hal must have felt him tense underneath him, because he lifts his head off Dominic’s chest and moves back up, breath ghosting over Dominic’s face for a split second before his lips are on Dominic’s again, slowly, gently, and Dominic feels himself relax. Hal’s hands expertly open his belt buckle and his trousers, and he gives them a little tug, beckoning Dominic to lift his hips. Dominic finds himself doing just that, and his hands come down to help Hal pull them over his hips and down his legs.

Hal’s hands roam up over Dominic’s thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and Dominic’s hands come back up to cradle Hal’s head, play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and pull Hal back down to him, and he is kissing him again. Dominic takes control of the kiss this time, remembering something Hal did to him before, and lightly bites Hal’s bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.

Hal’s reaction is instant. He growls deep in his throat, a shudder running through his body, and his eyes flash black for the briefest moment. Dominic is slightly startled by the reaction and pulls back, but Hal’s gentle hand on his cheek stops him.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Hal whispers against his mouth. “I’m sorry, I… got a bit overexcited. Maybe keep those teeth to yourself for now, yes?”

Dominic nods, nuzzles into Hal’s hand briefly before Hal moves it away to join his other one resting at Dominic’s hip bones, just above the waistband of his briefs. Dominic’s eyes follow Hal’s hands down and he is suddenly very aware that he is in his underwear, while Hal is still wearing his suit trousers. Carefully, hesitantly, he brings his hands down to Hal’s belt buckle, and with a quick look into Hal’s eyes, he begins to undo the belt and button. As Hal doesn’t protest, he quickly pulls down his zip, and his fingers brush against Hal’s undeniable erection. Dominic feels heat rising into his cheeks and he hopes Hal doesn’t notice.

Trust the Type 2, however, to pick up on the slightest change in blood flow under his skin, as his mouth wanders instantly from Dominic’s own mouth to his cheek, where he places a feather light kiss.

“It’s okay,” Hal whispers again, and it gives Dominic the courage to continue. Taking the lead from what Hal did moments earlier, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of his trousers and pulls. Hal lifts his hips to allow him to lower his trousers, until they pool around his ankles and Hal kicks them off in one quick, elegant movement.

Dominic, emboldened by his own actions, moves his right hand to Hal’s stomach, caressing the smooth, pale skin for a moment before he brings his hand down further, further, until he brushes his fingertips over Hal’s erection again through the thin fabric of his underwear. Hal inhales sharply at the contact, and Dominic suddenly realises that the Type 2 has probably not been touched in this way for a very long time. Dominic pulls his head back slightly to look at Hal, an unspoken question in his eyes. Hal nods, brings their lips back together, and just as Dominic continues to move his hand over Hal’s crotch, Hal hooks his fingers into the elastic of Dominic’s briefs and pulls them down to join his trousers at the end of the bed.

Dominic gasps as his erection springs free, and he forgets all about his own hand’s movements when he feels Hal’s cold hand encircling his cock.

“Is this okay?” Hal breathes against his lips.

“Yes,” Dominic manages to choke out with a sharp nod of his head. _Oh God, yes, please,_ is what he is actually thinking.

Hal’s hand begins its practised movement, applying just enough pressure, the perfect pace, and Dominic wonders how on Earth Hal could have got so good at doing this, but then answers his own question in his head when he remembers that Hal has five hundred years’ worth of experience. At least some of which, Dominic is sure, must have been with other men. Hal flicks his thumb over the head of Dominic’s cock, once, twice, all the while continuing the rhythmic up-down movement of his hand, and Dominic is in heaven. His own hand goes back to rubbing up and down Hal’s hard length through his boxer briefs. Suddenly, he feels like there is too much fabric between them, and he brings both hands up to almost violently tug at the waistband of Hal’s underwear, and in a flash of movement, the offending item has joined the growing pile of clothes at the end of the bed.

Dominic’s eyes flick down to take in Hal’s erection. He has never really looked at another man’s cock before, he realises. Just like the rest of Hal, his is pale and velvety and beautiful, and Dominic carefully, hesitantly reaches out to brush his fingertips against it. He pauses for the briefest moment, anxiety setting in. He has never done this before. This is a completely new experience for him. All he knows is that he wants, he needs to give something back to Hal. Needs to make him feel as good as Hal is making him feel. Taking a deep breath, he closes his fingers around Hal’s cock and starts moving his hand in a similar way as he would do for himself, different angles allowing.

Hal moans loudly against his lips as he feels Dominic’s hand on him, and it’s the most incredible sound Dominic has ever heard coming from the Type 2’s mouth. Dominic takes this as encouragement to continue, and does his best to mirror Hal’s practised movements on himself, slowly increasing in pace and urgency.

“Oh my God, Dominic,” Hal whimpers, breathless, and Dominic’s own breathing is becoming erratic as he is brought closer and closer to the edge. Hal’s hand on him feels incredible, and it’s getting more and more difficult to keep up his own movements on Hal’s cock, but he is determined, he wants to do this for Hal, he needs to keep going. Hal’s movements, however are starting to become sloppy and jerky as he himself is slowly coming undone. Hal’s whole body is shivering, Dominic notices, and the string of little cries and whimpers that are coming from Hal’s mouth is driving him insane.

When they do come, it is almost simultaneously, with Dominic’s name on Hal’s lips when he spills his release being the thing that pushes Dominic over the edge as well. There are sparks behind his eyes and his body jerks, his free hand clawing at Hal’s hair, a moan escaping from his lips and into Hal’s open mouth.

Hal, Dominic notices, has stopped breathing completely. His eyes are tightly shut and his whole body is shaking uncontrollably. For the second time today, Dominic cannot quite believe the effect he is having on Hal. He brings his hand around to cup Hal’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his stubble, but it seems like the Type 2 has completely shut down.

“Hal?” Dominic whispers, becoming slightly worried.

At his words, Hal’s eyes open, golden hazel, completely exposed and so, so vulnerable, and for a moment it feels like Dominic can gaze straight into his soul. Then the moment is gone, and it’s like a wall is coming up behind his eyes. Hal still looks absolutely lovely, a soft smile spreading on his lips, but Dominic acutely feels the loss of that moment, that… connection.

They lie on their sides on the bed for a long time in post-orgasmic bliss. At some point, Hal snakes an arm underneath Dominic’s head, and Dominic comes to lie with his head resting on Hal’s shoulder and his right arm thrown around Hal’s stomach. He can feel Hal placing a small, gentle kiss into his hair, and in this moment, he is the happiest he has ever felt in his life.

Alistair, the DoDD, Captain Hatch and the monsters can all go to hell. If he could have this for the rest of his life, he would quite happily live in his little bubble and not worry about the fate of the world anymore.

“Hal?” he finally speaks into the silence in the room.

“Mmmh?” Hal answers lazily.

“Thank you.”

Hal chuckles. “I believe I’m the one who should thank you,” he replies earnestly.

“I didn’t mean just for the sex,” Dominic clarifies, but immediately regrets saying it as he feels his cheeks burning with the admission of what they have just done.

“I know,” Hal replies, and Dominic believes him.

They lie in silence for a while longer before a thought pops into Dominic mind and he speaks up again.

“Hal?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever come across anything that would point towards the existence of demons?” Dominic blurts out, then cringes. Way to kill the mood, Rook.

Hal barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”

Dominic feels his cheeks burning again, but now that he’s said it he might as well stay on target. “Demons, Hal. Have you ever come across any?”

“What makes you think that I have?” asks Hal, his right hand making little circles on Dominic’s back, which admittedly is very distracting.

“I just thought, because you have been around for so long… thought you might have seen or heard something, that’s all.” Dominic evidently isn’t at his most eloquent just after having sex.

Hal is silent for a moment, then asks, “What makes you think that demons exist?”

Fair question. “I just have a hunch, something to do with the hotel suicides. I don’t really want to go into detail right now.”

“Hmm.” Hal pauses again for a moment before speaking. “Have you ever heard of a succubus, or incubus?”

Dominic lifts his head up to look into Hal’s face. “No? Should I?”

Hal lifts his head up for a quick kiss before replying. “Yes, you should. I met several in my lifetime, but one particular succubus was in our house, right here in Barry, only about a year ago.”

Dominic narrows his eyes at the Type 2. “Answer me one question, Hal. Why does everything even remotely supernatural-related always seem to happen in your house?”

Hal gives a small chuckle. “Believe me, I have asked myself that very same question. I guess when you get a vampire, werewolf and ghost living under the same roof, that kind of attracts others’ attention.” He shrugs, and Dominic lays his head back down on his chest.

“Guess you have a point.”

“Anyway,” Hal continues. “A succubus, or incubus, is supposed to be the offspring of a human and a demon.”

Dominic mulls this bit of information over in his head. “So you have met the _offspring_ of a demon, but not an actual demon?” he concludes.

Hal does not answer immediately, and Dominic feels the need to fill the resulting silence, so he continues talking. “My father always assumed that ‘demon’ was just another word for an Old One.”

He feels Hal tense under him, and regrets saying it immediately. Why can’t he ever just keep his wretched big mouth shut?

“I’m sorry, Hal, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I know you didn’t,” Hal says quickly. Then he adds, “Did your father also work for your department?”

Dominic nods, the hair on the top of his head brushing against Hal’s chin. “He was Permanent Secretary right up until his death in 1995.”

“Huh. I didn’t realise it was a family business,” Hal says jokingly, but now it’s Dominic’s turn to tense up.

“Yes. After the death of my mother, I pretty much grew up in the Archive. I never knew anything else. I started working for them straight after finishing my GCSEs. I worked my way up until I myself was appointed as Permanent Secretary five years ago.”

Hal seems deep in thought for a moment, and Dominic wonders if he has said something wrong yet again, although he can’t for the life of him think what. Then, Hal speaks again, voice muffled against the top of Dominic’s head. “How old were you when your mother died?”

Dominic’s eyes grow wide. Of all the questions he could have pictured Hal asking at this point, this certainly isn’t one of them.

“She died when I was three, that’s when I moved to Cardiff to live with my father. I barely remember her to be honest. It’s almost like I never knew her at all.” Dominic is vaguely aware that he might be oversharing, but Hal did ask a pretty personal question after all, and it feels good to be able to really talk to someone.

There is a moment’s silence before Hal says, “Hmm. I guess I kind of understand what you mean. I never really knew my mother either, as you can imagine.”

“What do you mean?” asks Dominic, genuinely intrigued.

“You know... seeing as I was born in a brothel?”

Dominic lifts his head off Hal’s chest to give him an incredulous look. “You _what_?”

“What, you didn’t know? I thought you’ve read my file?” Hal’s hand restarts tracing lazy circles on Dominic’s back.

Dominic lies back down and runs his own hand over Hal’s stomach in reciprocation. “That kind of information isn’t in your file. We don’t monitor humans. We only start recording information about an individual after they have been turned.”

“Hmm,” says Hal. “Maybe that’s where you’re going wrong.”

Dominic tilts his head up to give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Hal explains, “Having some background information about the human that they were could give you a distinct advantage over them after they’ve turned. We don’t just become completely different people. A lot of the things that were important to us then are still important now. It’s easy to use that kind of knowledge to your advantage.”

Dominic thinks about this piece of information for a long moment. The truth is, for most of his life he didn’t think Type 2s were ‘people’ at all. That everything they used to be dies as soon as the monster takes over. He is starting to see that he has been wrong about this all along.

“Thanks for the inside information,” he says.

"Anytime. If there is anything else you’d like to know, just ask.”

Dominic’s eyebrows draw together. “You really want nothing to do with them anymore, do you?”

“What, the other vampires?” Hal asks.

Dominic nods.

Hal sighs deeply. “I told you before, you don’t want to see a world where I’m leading the vampires.”

“I thought you just said that to sound tough,” Dominic admits, and Hal snorts.

“Well, I didn’t. It’s the truth. I go back, I’ll revert in the worst possible way. There will be nothing of humanity left when I’m finished with it.”

Dominic just stares at him for a moment, a frown on his face.

“Well then, I shall make it my life’s mission to keep you away from them, and to keep them away from you.”

Hal nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

Dominic lays his head back down on Hal’s chest, and Hal tightens his arm around him. Dominic smiles to himself, feeling completely and utterly content. He feels his eyelids getting heavy and slowly drifts off into sleep.


	9. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hal moves slightly so he can bring his head up and place a gentle kiss on the side of Dominic’s neck, just underneath his earlobe, but above the two little red puncture marks he left there last night. 'What are you so afraid of?' he whispers.
> 
> There is a long pause before Dominic speaks again, and when he does, it is only to say a single word. 'You.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will have to give a fluff warning for this chapter. What can I say, there's a part of me that really just wants to see them happy for a while. Dominic's stubbornness almost ruined it all, mind you, he really hasn't proven to be all that cooperative.  
> Also, there is some unrequited Alex/Hal at the end of this chapter - I like Alex, and I hated having to do this to her, but it was unavoidable.

And you didn’t even notice  
When the sky turned blue  
And you couldn’t tell the difference  
Between me and you  
And I nearly didn’t notice  
The gentlest feeling

\- Bloc Party, “Blue Light”

  
Rays of sunlight falling through the window wake Hal from his dreamless sleep. Disorientation sets in as he tries to get his bearings around the room – the window is on the wrong side of the bed, and there is something trapping his right arm, making it impossible for him to move. He tries to open his eyes, and his lashes brush against something soft. Moving his head back a tiny fraction and giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the light, he can just make out a mop of blond hair on the pillow in front of him.

Fragments of what happened last night are starting to come back to him. He met up with Dominic in one of the hotel rooms – that would explain why he is not in his own bed. He remembers drinking Dominic’s blood, the kissing, the sex… He remembers Dominic’s head on his chest, and how incredibly right it felt, like all the puzzle pieces were finally falling into place. How in that moment he felt like he might be falling a little bit in love with this human in front of him. At some point, they must have fallen asleep, and Dominic must have rolled over, pulling Hal with him. Hal’s left arm is flung over Dominic’s hip, resting lightly against the man’s stomach.

Hal idly wonders what time it is, and whether his absence has already been noticed by Alex and Tom. Lying here like this with Dominic, he honestly can’t get himself to care. He never even noticed how much he missed this, this physical closeness. This connection.

He starts to lightly brush his hand up and down Dominic’s stomach, and the man stirs ever so slightly, but doesn’t fully wake. Hal moves onto phase two and nuzzles into the nape of Dominic’s neck, placing a feather light kiss on his uppermost vertebra.

All of a sudden, he feels Dominic tense up and start to pull away.

“Morning,” Hal says quietly, tightening his arm around Dominic ever so slightly in the hope of keeping him here with him for a little while longer.

“Hal?” Dominic’s voice is guarded and tense.

“Yes?” Hal replies, not sure what Dominic expects him to say.

“I… this is… I’m not sure how to… did we fall asleep?” Hal almost feels sorry for Dominic as his voice breaks in several places and he doesn’t seem to be able to string a coherent sentence together.

“Yes, we did,” Hal says, then calmly adds, “Relax, Dominic. It’s okay. Just allow yourself to enjoy it.”

This elicits a nervous laugh from Dominic. “That’s easier said than done,” he admits.

Hal moves slightly so he can bring his head up and place a gentle kiss on the side of Dominic’s neck, just underneath his earlobe, but above the two little red puncture marks he left there last night. “What are you so afraid of?” he whispers.

There is a long pause before Dominic speaks again, and when he does, it is only to say a single word. “You.”

Hal pulls back slightly to look at the side of Dominic’s face. This is not what he expected to hear. “Why are you afraid of me?”

Dominic’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, hard. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. A few seconds pass before finally he whispers, “Forget I said anything” and starts pulling away in earnest. Hal has no choice but to move his arm out of the way and watch as Dominic climbs out of the bed and starts putting his clothes back on.

“Dominic,” Hal calls, and Dominic turns around to look at him midway through buttoning up his shirt. Their eyes lock, and Hal can see the terror and self-loathing in those beautiful blue eyes. And suddenly he understands what Dominic has been trying to say. He is afraid of Hal because he is afraid of his own feelings for what in his eyes is a vastly inferior life-form, a monster that should be locked up in a cell and contained for everyone’s safety.

Hal gets up, pulls on his boxer briefs and walks the short distance over to Dominic. The man’s hands are shaking where he is trying to do up his buttons, and Hal cups them with his own. Dominic’s eyes stare at where Hal’s nimble fingers are quickly doing up the remaining buttons on his shirt, before coming back up to look deeply into Hal’s own eyes.

“I won’t ever do anything you don’t want,” Hal says gently, “but you have to start allowing yourself to feel, Dominic. I know you wanted what happened last night just as much as I did.”

Dominic gives a tiny nod. “I did.”

“That’s good.” Hal nods. He pauses for a short moment, then adds, “What do you want now?”

Dominic swallows, and the pain in his eyes is almost too much for Hal to take as he opens his mouth and says, “I want to kiss you.”

Hal feels his breath hitch in his throat as he moves closer to Dominic, until he is too close to look into his eyes anymore, and he leans down to brush his lips against Dominic’s.

Dominic’s lips are hesitant against his own, but when he lightly sucks Dominic’s bottom lip in between both of his, it’s like a dam breaks, and Dominic’s hands come up to the back of his head, tilting his head down to give him better access while his lips start moving against his own. There is no urgency to the kiss, it is slow and languid and absolutely wonderful.

Twenty minutes later, they are sitting back against the head rest of the bed, both dressed in their shirts and suit trousers, and Dominic is idly leafing through the room service menu.

“What do think, Full English or Continental?” he asks, looking up at Hal with questioning eyes.

Hal shrugs. “I don’t really mind. You order whatever you fancy.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s your hotel, Hal. What do you recommend?”

“I think the Full English is good,” says Hal finally.

Dominic nods briskly. “Okay then, Full English it is.” He picks up the phone and dials the room service extension to place his order.

Hal gets up and makes his way over to the ensuite. At Dominic’s questioning look, he explains, “I shouldn’t be here when the room service arrives. As far as the hotel records are concerned, you are the sole occupant of this room. The staff know who I am. It would make for awkward questions.”

Dominic nods. “Of course.” Then he adds, like an afterthought, “Is that why you didn’t want me to order you anything?”

 _No,_ Hal thinks, _that would be because the mere thought of human food is making me feel slightly nauseous right now._

“Yes, exactly,” he says and disappears into the bathroom.

He listens out for the knock on the door that signals the arrival of Dominic’s breakfast, and waits for the member of staff to leave before re-emerging from the bathroom. Dominic has moved over to the small table in the corner and is sitting down in one of the armchairs, eyeing his food appreciatively.

“You were right, that does look like a good choice,” he says in Hal’s direction, and Hal smiles as he sits down across from Dominic, watching as the man starts tucking into his breakfast. Taking a mouthful of scrambled egg, Dominic looks up from his plate and locks his eyes on Hal’s. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“Yes, thank you, I’m fine,” answers Hal in what he hopes is a reassuring voice, but Dominic’s eyes narrow nonetheless. He knows the man is onto him, so he adds, truthfully, “I don’t really have much of an appetite for food anymore.” He gives Dominic a meaningful look, and there is a slight blush creeping into Dominic’s cheeks as he nervously averts his eyes. Hal can practically see the cogs in Dominic’s brain turning as he thinks about what he has just heard.

“I’ve seen Type 2s eating food many times before,” he says finally.

Hal wishes he would stop calling him a ‘Type 2’.

“It gets… more difficult with age. Just as the hunger for blood gets so much stronger, food somehow becomes less appealing.” He is aware that he is treading on thin ice. Anything that sets him apart from what in Dominic’s eyes qualifies as ‘normal’ will make the man more likely to give into his old prejudices again.

Dominic exhales deeply, his voice guarded as he replies, “I did not know that.” Then, to Hal’s enormous relief, his eyes come up to look straight into Hal’s and he adds, “Thank you for telling me.”

Hal chances a small smile and says, “You’re welcome.” The smile he gets in return warms his unbeating heart.

They sit in a companionable silence while Dominic turns back to his breakfast. After a few minutes of watching Dominic eat, Hal remembers something he meant to ask the man ever since their phone call the previous day.

“Why could I not come to your flat last night?” he asks.

Dominic looks up and swallows the mouthful of bacon he has been chewing before answering. “I have a… guest, of sorts.”

Hal raises his eyebrows. “Girlfriend?”

Dominic actually chokes on the sip of tea he has just taken. In between coughs and splutters, he forces out an emphatic “No.” Once he has caught his breath sufficiently to continue, he explains, “Her name is Natasha. She’s a… girl I saved from a group of Type 2s many years ago. We kept in touch, I’m a… mentor of sorts, I guess, to her.”

“And she is staying with you at your flat?”

Dominic nods. “She has an unfortunate knack of surrounding herself with the wrong sort of people.”

“And her family?” asks Hal, although he thinks he can guess the answer.

“Her mother was murdered by Type 2s when Natasha was only seven.” A trace of the man’s deep-rooted loathing of vampires creeps into his voice as he speaks, and not for the first time today Hal wonders whether whatever they have here can possibly have any kind of future. “She never mentioned her father,” Dominic concludes and looks at Hal as if he hasn’t said anything controversial whatsoever.

Hal nods, deciding it’s best to let it go. “How long is she staying with you?”

“Hopefully only a few days,” says Dominic. “Only until she has found somewhere new to go.” A glint suddenly appears in Dominic’s eyes and he looks at Hal in a calculating way. “As a matter of fact, Natasha could really do with finding a job. She has worked in hospitality before…” He trails off and gives Hal a meaningful look.

Hal stares at Dominic for a long moment. He can’t possible mean… “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he states.

“But Hal, think about it. I know you’re always on the lookout for new staff, I’ve seen the sign you put up in the window downstairs. You need the staff, and Natasha needs the job. If she has a regular income, she can afford to rent her own place, and she won’t have to stay in my flat anymore. Problem solved.” He smiles triumphantly, and Hal can’t help but crack a small smile of his own.

“She can come by for an interview, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dominic’s smile widens, and he leans across the table, capturing Hal’s lips in a gentle kiss before saying, “Thank you.”

Maybe, Hal muses with the ghost of Dominic’s breath still on his lips, there is hope for them after all.

***

“Where the hell have you been all night?” Natasha greets Dominic as he walks into the kitchen shortly after half past ten in the morning. She is sitting on one of the counters, apparently waiting for her tea to brew.

Dominic walks over to the kettle and pours himself a cup, setting it down next to Natasha’s on the counter.

“As I explained to you last night, there was a supernatural incident in Barry that I had to look into. It took longer than expected,” he says. “By the time I finished, I didn’t feel like driving all the way back here, so I stayed the night.” He busies himself with taking the tea bags out of the two cups to avoid having to look Natasha in the eyes. He may be an excellent liar if the situation calls for it, but he has never been any good at lying to her.

“You’ve got a girlfriend.” It is a statement, not a question. Dominic rolls his eyes. Why does everyone seem to think that he has a blooming _girlfriend_?

“No,” he says emphatically.

“Boyfriend then,” Natasha quips, and against his better judgement, Dominic feels his cheeks heating up and a little flutter settling in his stomach. He can’t very well call Hal his boyfriend, now, can he? Whatever their arrangement is to be described as, ‘boyfriend’ is most certainly not a word he would use.

His hesitation, however, is enough to pique Natasha’s interest. “Oh my God, Dominic, I wasn’t even being serious!” she exclaims. “You are kidding, right?”

If there was a hole opening up in the ground that could swallow him whole in this precise moment, Dominic would have welcomed it. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out, and his cheeks are burning crimson as he stares at Natasha with wide, mortified eyes.

“You’re not kidding.” Natasha’s eyebrows draw together and studies him with a small smile playing on her lips for a long moment before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Dominic seems to have lost his ability to speak, and all he can do is watch on in silence as Natasha’s chest rises and falls in quiet laughter.

“What’s his name?” she asks once she has calmed down sufficiently to speak again. That blasted smile is still on her face, though, and Dominic wonders what on Earth he has done to deserve this.

"We are not talking about this, Tasha,” he says emphatically and stares down into his tea cup, pointedly not looking at her.

“Oh come on, Dominic, I just asked for his name, what harm can it do? It's not like I know that many people around here,” she reasons, then adds, “and I thought you'd introduce me to him eventually.”

Dominic’s eyes grow wide. Now that’s definitely not going to happen.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he chokes out, and watches Natasha’s small smile fade into a disappointed frown.

“Jesus, Dominic, have you always been so uptight?” she asks in quiet exasperation, then answers her own question, “Wait, yes, you have.”

Dominic’s eyes narrow. “We are not talking about this,” he says again, with an air of finality.

Natasha seems to accept that she is not going to get her questions answered at this time, as she is not pressing him on it any further. He feels like this might be the perfect opportunity to change the subject.

“So, how is the job search going?” he asks nonchalantly.

Natasha looks down at her tea cup for a moment, then lifts her eyes back up to him. “Well, before you told me about what’s happening with your department, I kind of hoped… I mean, you know I asked you before if—”

“And you know my answer has always been no!” Dominic retorts. He will not allow Natasha to put herself in that kind of danger.

“But I don’t understand, I mean I know about vampires and werewolves and everything already. I have learned so much from you over the years, about how to keep myself safe, how to defend myself,” she tries to reason with him. “And anyway, I’d have you to protect me.”

Dominic swallows, staring at the determined young woman in front of him. When did she grow up so much? In his mind, he still sees her as the scared little girl he rescued from the Type 2s’ blood bank so many years ago.

“I understand your desire to keep humanity safe from the monsters, Tasha, believe me, I do. It’s what has kept me going all those years.” He gives her a small smile, which she returns. “But it’s too late. My department is all but closed down. Only a miracle can save us now,” he finishes gravely.

Natasha sighs deeply and nods. “Understood.”

“However,” Dominic continues, “When I was in Barry last night, I did come across an advert for a hotel staff vacancy at the Barry Grand Hotel. I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind, but at least it would bring in some money,” he reasons.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “And you just so happened to come across the advert? Is that where you were staying, at the Barry Grand?”

Dominic nods, heat creeping back into his cheeks at the memory of last night. He quickly lifts his tea cup to his lips and takes a big gulp to hopefully hide his blush from Natasha’s observant eyes.

“So you actually did go to Barry? I thought you made all that up,” Natasha admits.

Dominic nods again. “Of course I did.”

“Well, cut me some slack, you did just admit to having gone on a secret date with your boyfriend,” Natasha says, and there is that blasted little smile again. “God, that sounds so weird when I say that.”

 _Not nearly as weird as it sounds to me,_ Dominic thinks, before saying, “It wasn’t a date.”

“Sure, whatever,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes. Then she jumps off the counter and goes to rinse her empty cup in the sink before walking towards the door. “Anyway, I’m off to have a shower, and then I might give that hotel a ring,” she announces and leaves the room.

Dominic is left standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring into his tea cup, unmoving.

No matter what Natasha seems to be thinking, Hal is _not_ his boyfriend. He can’t be, because the term ‘boyfriend’ implies some level of emotional attachment, which plain and simply isn’t there. His attraction to Hal is, and always will be, strictly physical. Hal is an extremely attractive ma— creature, and Dominic’s body responds to that. End of story.

And how could it be anything other than that? Hal is not even human. Allowing himself this kind of physical closeness with a Type 2 is already beyond what he ever thought possible.

Be that as it may, he decides that he better forewarn Hal about Natasha’s upcoming call. Pulling his phone out of his trouser pocket, he quickly dials the familiar number of Honolulu Heights.

“Hello?” a female voice answers.

Dominic is slightly taken aback. Does McNair have a girlfriend? And even if so, would McNair’s girlfriend go and answer the phone in his house?

“Hello? Someone there?” the voice asks again. Dominic notes that whoever she is, she has a strong Scottish accent.

“I-I was hoping to speak to Hal Yorke,” Dominic stutters.

“Oh, sorry, he’s not available right now. Can I take a message?”

Dominic frowns. It appears that the woman not only knows Hal, but from the way she is speaking, it seems like she is very familiar with him. Who on Earth is this person?

“Could you just let him know that Dominic Rook has called, and to please give me a call back at his earliest convenience,” Dominic states.

There is silence on the other end of the line for a long moment. “What did you just say?” the woman finally asks. Then, without waiting for an answer, “Did you say your name is Rook?”

“Yes,” Dominic replies, not quite sure where she is going with this.

“You can hear me,” she states. Dominic finds this conversation increasingly odd indeed.

“Yes, of course I can hear you,” he confirms.

“But… this is impossible,” the woman says, almost like she is speaking to herself rather than him. “Mr Rook is human.”

Suddenly, the pieces fall into place in Dominic’s mind, and his eyes grow huge when he realises who it is he is talking to.

“Alex?” he asks, hesitantly.

“No, but this is impossible. Who are you really?” Alex asks with the tiniest hint of hysteria creeping into her voice.

“My name is Dominic Rook, I work for the Departm—”

“How the fuck is this possible?” Alex interrupts.

“I’m not sure, Alex. Believe me, I’m as surprised about this as you are,” Dominic replies calmly, although he feels everything but calm inside.

“Yeah, well, go figure it out then,” Alex exclaims, then adds, “What did you want with Hal, anyway?”

“That’s between me and Hal, I’m afraid,” Dominic replies.

“Fine. You know what? I don’t even want to know,” Alex says. “I’ll tell him you called.”

Then the line goes dead.

Dominic stares at his phone for a long time, equal parts fascinated and terrified at what has just happened. His life just seems to get stranger by the minute.

***

Alex slams down the receiver and rent-a-ghosts into Hal’s room.

“Alex, what part of ‘I do not want to be disturbed’ did you not understand?” snaps Hal, jumping up from where he has been doing press-ups only moments earlier. He is topless in a pair of tight black jeans, and Alex finds it difficult to tear her eyes away from his toned body.

“You will not believe what just happened,” Alex exclaims, deciding to ignore his jibe and get straight to the point.

“What just happened?” Hal asks, pulling a shirt over his head.

“I just had an honest to God telephone conversation,” she announces.

“Yes?” Hal asks, exasperated. “Did Tom call from the hotel? Why are you telling me this?”

Alex sighs and flops down on Hal’s sofa. “I just had an honest to God telephone conversation with _Rook_.”

This has got Hal’s attention, and he whips his head around to look at her. “Rook?”

Alex nods. “Yep. He called to speak to you – care to tell me what that was about, by the way?”

“No,” says Hal in a clipped tone. _What is it with all this secrecy?_

“Anyway,” Alex continues, “I answered the phone, expecting it to be Tom, and he just started talking to me. He seemed to know who I am. But when I asked him how this is possible, he said he was as clueless about it as I was.” Then, a sudden thought comes into her head, and she adds, “You don’t think he’s been faking, do you? Pretending that he can’t see me when really he can?”

“No,” says Hal, shaking his head. “He’s definitely human.”

“You sure?” she replies, even though she is pretty certain that his assessment is accurate. Her friend seems to possess some kind of sixth sense when it comes to other supernaturals. Then a new thought occurs to her. “What if he’s died?”

For a split second, Hal’s expression changes, and Alex is sure she can almost see something like worry on his face, but as quickly as it appeared it’s gone again and he replies, “Surely not.”

“Think about it, though,” Alex presses on. “He lives alone, yes? And his department has been closed down. You saw what it was like in there when we went to speak to him, not another soul anywhere in sight. What if he just… I don’t know, woke up one morning without realising he was dead? That he’d died in his sleep or whatever?”

“He didn’t,” Hal blurts out a little too quickly. Alex gives him a close, scrutinising look. He sure has been acting weird lately.

“And why’s that?” she asks.

“Well, he’s a little young to just be dying in his sleep, isn’t he?” Hal explains, but it’s easy for Alex to see that there is more behind his original statement. Almost as if...

“Have you been to see him again, without me? Is that why he called you? What’s going on, Hal?”

Hal pauses for a moment, looking pointedly away from her. His voice sounds sheepish when he replies, “I’m afraid I have. I’m sorry, Alex.”

Alex gives him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? You knew I’ve been investigating the suicides all this time, and you didn’t think it would have been a good idea to tell me you and Rook have somehow, I don’t know, teamed up or whatever you want to call it?”

Hal sighs deeply and looks straight into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze is unexpected, and it makes her feel a little bit uncomfortable, but she holds it nonetheless. When Hal opens his mouth again, he says the last thing that Alex expected to hear. “I guess I’m just not very good at dealing with emotions.”

It takes her a moment to get his meaning, but when the penny drops, she can almost feel the ghost of a blush creeping into her cheeks. Now that she thinks about it, it makes so much sense. All of Hal’s strange, elusive behaviour over this last week, ever since… ever since they had their ‘talk’ in Hal’s room in the aftermath of Crumb, the day they went to see Rook at the Archive.

“You mean you’ve been avoiding me,” Alex says quietly, and she is not surprised, but still a little hurt, when she sees Hal nod.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I know we said we would talk about it, I—”

“Let’s talk now!” Alex suddenly blurts, and inwardly kicks herself for her lack of impulse control. She is suddenly very aware that Hal has been working out only a few minutes ago, that his skin is still glistening with sweat, and she can’t help but picture his half-naked body on the floor doing press-ups. _Not helping, Millar,_ she scolds her overactive imagination.

“What, right now?” Hal asks, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. God, she almost feels sorry for him. He was certainly not kidding when he said he’s not good at dealing with emotions.

“Yes, why not now. Tom’s at work, you’re here, as far as I know you don’t have anything more on your rota until,” she steals a quick look at the clock on the bedside table – it’s 11.28am, “Twelve. That gives us half an hour.”

Hal sighs, but clearly doesn’t know what to say to that. “Okay then,” he concedes finally. “Let’s talk.”

He gestures towards the sofa, and Alex sits down at the far end, being joined by Hal a short moment later. He is doing his finger tapping thing, she notices. This is obviously not an easy thing for him to do.

“Hal, I—” she starts, at the same time Hal says, “Listen—”

They both let out a little startled laugh, before Hal says, “You first.”

A true gentleman, Alex thinks, and smiles. She takes a deep breath, starts again. “What I meant to say, I think, is that I really like you. Still. I know it’s all sorts of fucked up, but I can’t help it. I… I think I still want to be with you. If you still want me.”

She lets out a huge breath, not quite sure how she managed to get to the end of that. Her eyes lift towards Hal, and her brow furrows at the expression on his face. Hal, it seems, has completely shut down. There is no expression, either positive or negative, discernible on his face, and it unsettles Alex a lot more than an outright rejection. She waits for a long moment for him to respond, but when he doesn’t she shifts slightly closer to him on the sofa and slowly reaches out her hand, brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, which has stopped tapping and has come to rest on his thigh. “Hal?” she asks, quietly.

There is no response to her fingers on his hand, but at her calling his name he lifts his eyes to look at her. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and he presses his lips back together in that expression of his that is not quite a smile.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, I guess,” Alex says, if only to end this heavy silence. Slowly, Hal’s hand turns around under her fingers, and he loosely grasps her smaller hand in his own. His eyes dart down to their joint hands, and his mouth opens again.

“Alex, I—”

Emboldened by his actions and the beginning of a response, Alex suddenly feels like she doesn’t want to wait anymore. They have both felt it, haven’t they? Hell, they almost kissed, they would have kissed, in the hotel corridor, if it hadn’t been for Crumb. She leans forward and, without waiting for him to finish whatever it was he planned to say, she closes the distance between them and presses her lips to his. Hal’s lips are surprisingly soft, she thinks as she lightly brushes hers against them, and his breath smells like a pleasant mix of tea and peppermint.

It takes her brain a moment to catch up with the very important fact that he is not kissing her back. Alex pulls away, heat creeping up into her cheeks. She was so sure… She should have really let him finish whatever it was he wanted to say. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ she repeats like a mantra in her head. She can’t bring herself to look at Hal, can’t bear to see the anger/confusion/pity/indifference she might see there. She doesn’t want to know why it is that he has changed his mind. All she wants is to be away from him, from this room, and without another word she rent-a-ghosts downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget - I have made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/3hql24lujqro9n3yjt6tv7seu/playlist/6ZDw2g9fUm4oB5WdY5udpr?si=Wi_9PYRfRiSJTz5fDXtyBw) for this story - come and have a listen if you like! Songs will be added as chapters are posted.


	10. A Date, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'So, Alex,' Dominic continues, 'Hal mentioned you have a theory about who – or what – might be behind the suicides?' He looks up in the direction of where he knows Alex is sitting. 
> 
> 'Yes,' Alex says loudly, then adds in a quieter tone, 'although I have to stress that Hal doesn’t really agree with me, do you, sweet pea?' Dominic feels another stab in his chest at the easy way she uses the endearment. Dominic sees out of the corner of his eye that Hal is shooting her an irritated look.
> 
> 'I merely said that you are lacking any kind of reliable evidence,' he bites out.
> 
> 'Be that as it may,' Alex continues, 'I’m almost ninety-nine percent certain that one of the hotel guests has something to do with it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to everyone who is reading this - you guys rock my world!
> 
> Enjoy!

I’ve felt it for some time now, and not at all  
Poison in my head, god love hurts  
I’m not looking for love, but it’s hard to resist  
I don’t recall being this dead

\- The Big Pink, “Velvet”

  
Hal is left sitting on the sofa in his room, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. His head is reeling. What an infernal mess of a situation. He meant to let Alex down gently, but the words just didn’t come to him in time, and when she kissed him… He never even noticed when his attraction to Alex began to fade. All he knows is that the place in his mind that was once reserved for her is now firmly inhabited by a slim blond man with impossibly blue eyes.

Squeezing his eyes shut, it’s those blue eyes that he sees in front of him, and the intensity of the need he suddenly feels for the man is startling him. He is aware that he is becoming quite dangerously dependent on Dominic, and that the feeling goes way beyond simple bloodlust. The thought frightens him. He knows what usually happens when he allows himself to become attached to a human.

Taking his shirt off in one swift movement, Hal drops onto the floor and starts another round of press-ups. Hopefully the exercise will help take his mind off Dominic, and Alex, and the whole messed up situation. He starts silently counting in his head, but very uncharacteristically loses his place several times and has to make an educated guess of where to continue counting. When he reaches one hundred he finds that he has no desire whatsoever to continue, and he jumps up and dries himself off with the towel he had flung over his sofa earlier. Somewhere halfway through the eighties, he remembered that Dominic had tried to call him, and it took all the painful self-control he had to not jump up and run downstairs to the phone immediately.

Now, however, there is nothing stopping him, he thinks, making his way down the stairs and into the living room. Except for his ghostly housemate sitting with her feet up on the coffee table, watching ‘Homes under the Hammer’. As Hal enters the room, she quickly looks over at him before gluing her eyes back on the TV.

Hal stands next to the phone for a long moment, but it doesn’t seem like Alex has any inclination of moving. After another couple of minutes, he lets out a deep sigh and lifts up the receiver, dialling the familiar number.

Dominic answers almost immediately with his usual, “Hello?”

“I got your message,” says Hal in a clipped tone, keeping his eyes firmly on Alex as he talks.

There is a short pause at the other end before Dominic says, “Is she there with you now?”

Hal finds himself relieved that the other man has obviously picked up on his cue. “Yes,” he confirms. There are so many questions he wants to ask Dominic right now, but he settles on the fairly safe, “I didn’t realise you are a psychic.” The silent addition of _Why didn’t you tell me?_ hangs in the air between them.

“I… I never experienced anything like that before, Hal. Ever. I mean, I knew that I’m able to feel a Type 1’s presence if I… open my mind to them. But I’ve never _spoken_ to one before.”

Hal mulls that over in his head for a long moment. He remembers when he first saw Dominic in the basement of that nightclub, and it appeared then like he could somehow sense Alex’s presence. But Hal believes him that he has never been able to hear her, he has certainly never given any indication that he could.

“Maybe it’s the phone,” he muses out loud.

He can almost _hear_ Dominic frowning as he replies, “What do you mean?”

Hal elaborates, “Electronic devices like radios and televisions can be used by ghosts to make contact with this plane even from the afterlife. Perhaps the telephone line somehow amplifies Alex’s presence, making her audible to you.”

“Hmm. Certainly a possibility,” agrees Dominic.

There is a slight pause in which neither man knows quite how to continue their conversation, what with the continuous presence of a certain ghost in the room.

“So, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” Hal finally asks, acutely aware of how cold and detached his voice sounds. It feels wrong, somehow.

“Natasha,” Dominic pipes up. “I told her about the job at the hotel, so she is going to give you a ring. I was just going to give you a heads up.”

“Oh, erm… thanks for that,” says Hal, and a part of him is delighted that Dominic has obviously been waiting for the smallest excuse to speak to him. Maybe the other man does actually share some of the inexplicable feelings that have been haunting Hal of late. He feels a tiny spark of warmth in his chest at the thought and can’t keep the little smile off his face as he adds, “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes,” Dominic replies almost instantly. “You remember when you came to see me at the Archive?”

The spark of warmth in his chest spreads like wildfire at the mention of that day. “Very well,” he says, and realises too late that his voice has gone soft and he is still smiling like an idiot. He steals a quick, worried glance in Alex’s direction, but to his immense relief the ghost is still sitting with her eyes firmly on the TV, paying him little attention. Or so he hopes, anyway.

“I didn’t mean that part,” Dominic replies mock-seriously, but Hal can hear the smile in his voice all the same.

“What did you mean then?” Hal asks, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“I just meant to ask you… do you know anything about the whereabouts of the file I showed you? The one about the hotel suicides?”

Oh. Yes, he certainly does. He hasn’t even thought about the fact that Dominic would be missing the file Alex took.

“Yes, I do,” he states, hesitantly.

Dominic sounds intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yes, erm… I took it.” He closes his eyes. He hates lying to Dominic, but there is a part of him that really doesn’t want to admit to Alex’s presence at the Archive that day. “I took it with me when I left. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just taken—”

“That file is government property, Hal!” Dominic suddenly bellows, and Hal has to do his best not to bust out laughing. All of a sudden, he just sounds so much more like Mr Rook and so much less like Dominic. “Plus, that information is top secret. We can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands!”

“I can assure you it’s not going to fall into the wrong hands,” Hal starts, but Dominic does not allow him to continue.

“I need that file back, Hal. Immediately,” he stresses, then adds, “What did you want with it, anyway?”

There’s nothing for it, Hal thinks. Might as well be honest. “We… we’ve been investigating the suicides. Alex and I. Well, mostly Alex. She has some interesting theories, actually,” he adds, remembering Alex’s thoughts about Captain Hatch. “Maybe the two of you should get together sometime.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes. What kind of complete bumbling fool is he? Having Alex and Dominic together in one room can only spell disaster.

Unfortunately, the ghost in question chooses precisely that moment to turn around to him and listen in to the conversation. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” she pipes up, at the same time as Dominic says, “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Hal feels his stomach dropping. _No, this is a very, very bad idea._

“I don’t know,” he says in response to Dominic’s question.

Alex, however, has already got up off the sofa and is coming over to where Hal is standing by the phone, looking intrigued. “Can I… try again?” she asks, gesturing to the receiver in Hal’s hand.

Hal clears his throat. “Alex just asked if she could try speaking to you again,” he explains to Dominic.

There is silence on the other end for a moment, before Dominic replies, “Of course.” His voice sounds small and reluctant, and Hal has to remind himself that the man has little appreciation for supernaturals of any kind. Somehow, the thought stings much more than it should.

He hands the receiver to Alex with a small nod. She takes it and says, “Hello?”

Hal watches with bated breath. There is a short silence and at first he thinks that the spell has been broken somehow and Dominic is unable to hear her, but then his hypersensitive hearing picks up Dominic’s voice through the receiver. “Hello, Alex.”

“Oh my God, this is mad,” Alex exclaims. Then, in a quieter voice, “I mean, it’s grand that you can still hear me. Hal tells me that you two’ve been looking into the suicides as well?”

“Err, yes…?” says Dominic, and it almost sounds like a question for Hal. Of course, the man doesn’t know about his emergency lie to Alex earlier about why they have been seeing each other.

“So, I think it would be great if we could get together and… I don’t know, throw some ideas around?” Alex is getting way too excited about this, Hal decides.

“Alex, I really don’t know—” he starts, but gets interrupted with a firm, “Shush, Hal!” from Alex, just as Dominic starts speaking again.

“Yes, that might indeed be… beneficial,” he says, and Hal suddenly realises that Dominic doesn’t know anything about his… history with Alex. As far as he is concerned, they have only ever been friends. The man might actually take this as an excuse to come to the house to visit him. Hal can’t say that he completely disagrees, he certainly doesn’t want to wait another three to four days before he sees Dominic again. But surely Dominic must be aware that with Alex here there will be nothing but longing stares and wasted opportunities. Unless the man is _really_ that interested in solving the hotel suicides?

“Okay, that’s a date then,” says Alex, and Hal marvels at her unintentionally poor choice of words once again. Then he realises that he has missed Dominic’s response. Have they actually agreed a date?

Alex has already hung up the phone by the time his mind has fully caught up with what happened.

“What did he say?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“He’s coming round tomorrow,” Alex says, then frowns. “So, how’s this going to work when he’s actually here? I mean, we know he can hear me over the phone, but will he be able to hear me in person?”

“Unlikely,” says Hal. “But you could always call him.”

Alex’s frown deepens. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“What I mean is, you can call his mobile phone while he is here. He can even have it on… speakerphone,” he says, hoping he has got the correct word for what he is trying to say. All these modern technology terms are still highly confusing to him.

“You know, I think that might just work,” says Alex, a small smile on her face, and for a moment everything is okay between them, until Alex speaks again. “Listen, Hal, about earlier—”

“It’s okay,” Hal cuts her off. He does not want to talk about this right now. Plus, it’s coming up to twelve o’clock, and he would really rather not miss _You and Yours_.

“But Hal—”

“Really, Alex. It’s okay. _We’re_ okay.” As soon as he says it, he realises the way his words can and probably will be misinterpreted by Alex. But seeing the glowing smile spreading across her face, he doesn’t have the heart to take it back.

“We are?” she squeaks and throws her arms around him. Then, calmer, “Okay then, cupcake,” and she leans forward to peck him on the cheek before rent-a-ghosting out of the room. Hal closes his eyes and heaves a deep sigh. How on Earth did he get himself into this mess?

***

Dominic looks up from his laptop to see Natasha ambling into the office, coming around his desk and sitting down on the windowsill behind him, legs dangling.

“Thanks for the tip about that hotel job,” she says and Dominic turns around in his chair to see her bite into a chocolate digestive she has been holding in her hand.

“Did you speak to them then?” he asks, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice. Suddenly he is not so sure anymore whether having Natasha work in the same place as Hal and McNair is such a good idea. Never mind his growing suspicions around Captain Hatch…

“Yeah, spoke to the assistant manager, nice guy called Tom,” Natasha says casually.

“Right,” replies Dominic, stopping himself before he can point out that Tom is not a ‘nice guy’ but a vicious animal. She doesn’t need to know that… quite yet.

“Mhmm,” Natasha continues around another mouthful of biscuit. “He said he’d be quite happy to give me an interview, but he’ll have to check with the manager first. Apparently he’s not at work today, so I should hear back by tomorrow.” She looks pleased with herself, and Dominic can’t help but smile.

“I’m really happy to hear that, Tasha.”

“Yeah, well, hold your horses,” Natasha continues, sounding slightly more subdued. “I’ll still have to pass the interview.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine in the interview,” says Dominic, a sudden picture of Hal sitting across from Natasha with a stern expression and a list of awkward questions forming in his mind’s eye, and he smiles.

“Cheers for the vote of confidence,” she replies, then adds, “So, what have you been up to?”

Dominic flicks his eyes back to the screen for a moment before replying. “Just some research, to do with that case in Barry that I’ve been working on.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, then smirks. “I thought the ‘case in Barry’ was made up, Dominic?”

Dominic sighs exasperatedly. “The case in Barry is not made up, Tasha, I merely used it as an excuse the other day to… to…” He finds it impossible to finish the sentence, but thankfully he doesn’t have to.

“To go out with your boyfriend,” Natasha quips, and he blushes. Again. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man should be blushing this much. Then again, not many thirty-five-year-old men have never had a sexual partner before, Dominic reasons. Natasha, it seems, is taking pity on him, as she continues with, “So, this case in Barry… wanna tell me about it?”

Dominic looks at her for a long moment, then decides that he might as well try and take her mind off of other, much more uncomfortable topics of conversation, and starts into a lengthy description of the Barry Grand suicides, and his department’s theories as to their supernatural origin. Natasha, for the most part, actually looks interested, only interrupting him partway through to go and make them both a cup of tea. She brings in the hot beverages, sets one down on Dominic’s desk, accompanied by another couple of the chocolate digestives that somehow seem to have made their way into his kitchen, and settles herself back down on the windowsill with her own mug and biscuits.

Dominic takes the mug gratefully, taking an experimental sip. He has gone back to having his tea with just milk, no sugar, and it makes him appreciate the delicate flavour of the Twining’s Darjeeling Natasha has chosen. He wonders if she knows that it’s his favourite. She probably does, he decides. She is the kind of person who would remember that kind of detail, and she has always shown an almost obsessive interest in every tiny aspect of his life.

Dominic resumes his account of the Barry Grand case, answering some of Natasha’s questions, and he finds that he actually really enjoys talking to her. It makes a welcome change from all the weird and confusing things going on in his life at the moment. After a short moment of silence as they come to a natural finish in the conversation, Natasha sits back on the windowsill and starts scrolling through something on her phone. Probably some kind of social media nonsense, Dominic thinks, and goes back to reading his emails.

“Why are you still wearing that stupid suit?” Natasha pipes up suddenly, and Dominic whips around in his chair to look at her, a frown building on his face.

“What do you mean?”

Natasha gives a big, exaggerated sigh. “Ever since I first met you, every single time I’ve seen you, you’ve been wearing that boring grey suit. I thought, with your department closing down, maybe you’d want to… I don’t know… spice up your wardrobe a bit?”

Dominic’s eyes go wide. ‘Spice up’ his wardrobe? Whatever does she have in mind? He asks her as much, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Seriously, Dominic. Do you even _own_ anything that’s not a white shirt or a grey suit?” At his stunned silence, she continues, “Good heavens, Dominic. How did you and… nameless guy even meet?”

Dominic sighs inwardly. Here they go again. Why can’t they even have an innocent conversation about his wardrobe without bringing Hal into the equation?

“It was… work related,” he says. Not a complete lie, at least.

The statement, however, earns another eye roll and a groan from Natasha. “Of course it was,” she states. “Still, I’m sure…” she leaves an expectant pause, and Dominic knows she is just waiting for him to fill in Hal’s name. He doesn’t. “… nameless guy would appreciate you wearing something different for a change. When are you going to see him again?”

Dominic closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep, calming breath. “Tomorrow,” he says, truthfully.

“Brilliant,” says Natasha, jumps up from the windowsill and crosses the room in quick, purposeful steps.

“Wait, Natasha, what are you doing?” Dominic calls after her, but he doesn’t get a reply. From where he is sitting at his desk, he can just about see Natasha opening the door to his bedroom across the hallway. What in God’s name is she doing? “Natasha!” he calls again, louder, and gets up to follow her. He finds her standing in front of his open wardrobe, rows over rows of white shirts and grey suits, carefully ironed and hung up on padded hangers.

“You really don’t own anything else,” she says flatly, turning around to face him. The look on her face is incredulous.

“I never had a need for anything else, Natasha,” he says, suddenly feeling defensive.

Natasha just stares at him for a moment, and there is something almost like pity in her eyes, but it is gone before he can be sure. She turns back around to his wardrobe and pulls out one of his shirts, carefully peeling the back of the collar from the hanger to have a look at the label. Reading his shirt size, he realises.

She carefully puts the shirt back into the wardrobe and walks over to the door.

“What are you doing?” asks Dominic, dread settling into his stomach.

“I’m gonna go spice up your wardrobe,” she says with a grin, and before he has even found the words to reply, she is already out the door.

***

Standing at the front door of Honolulu Heights the next day, Dominic wonders what demon has possessed him to go along with Natasha’s silly idea. He nervously tugs at the hem of his dark grey coat, which he wears over the slim-fit, midnight blue shirt that, according to Natasha, ‘brings out the colour of his eyes’. At least she left him his usual grey suit trousers – for now. What also doesn’t help is that she insisted on styling his hair, which means he now has some sort of sticky product in it that makes his scalp itch. Although he does have to admit that it may just make him look a little bit younger.

He swallows, hard, to get rid of the pesky lump in his throat, as he lifts his hand to the door and knocks. There is no answer for a moment, and Dominic almost decides to turn around and drive back to Cardiff when the door opens, and Hal stands in front of him, open-mouthed and staring.

“I… err… it’s good to see you,” Hal stutters, and Dominic feels his cheeks burning at the unashamed way the Type 2’s eyes are roaming over him.

“You too,” he forces out, then, “Can I come in?”

Hal, obviously realising that he is blocking the doorway, steps aside to let him in. “Sorry,” he mutters.

As Dominic walks past Hal and through the narrow doorway, the fingers of his right hand accidentally brush against Hal’s, and Dominic is startled by the shiver that the small touch is sending all the way down his spine. He quickly pulls his hand away and makes his way through the door into the small enclosed front porch. He notices that the inner door is shut, and quickly realises why when Hal follows him inside and closes the front door, effectively shutting them into the small space. Immediately, Hal’s hands are on him, pulling him forward by the lapels of his coat before bringing his mouth down on his in a quick, desperate kiss. Dominic barely has time to respond before Hal has pulled away again.

“You look gorgeous,” Hal whispers against his mouth, hands slipping under his coat and settling around his waist. Dominic can’t help the little smile that settles on his lips at the compliment. Maybe Natasha was on to something after all. Hal kisses him again, just as briefly as before. Then a hand comes up to his shirt collar, pulling it down, and Hal's mouth moves down to his neck for just a moment, hovering over his pulse point, where the two small round marks are just starting to heal over. Dominic feels a rush of something at the pit of his stomach. _He wouldn’t, would he? Not here, not like this?_

The next moment Hal is gone, the inner door is open, and he hears Hal say, in a voice that is remarkably composed, “Please, come in. Can I take your coat?”

Dominic’s mind is reeling. Hal’s reaction to him was certainly unexpected. And he can’t blame it on the bloodlust this time, with it having been a mere day and a half since the Type 2 has last fed.

Dominic follows Hal through the door and mechanically takes off his coat, handing it to Hal, who is standing by the coat rack with a hand outstretched and his eyes still on Dominic, but now there is a warning look in his eyes. Alerting him to Alex’s presence, no doubt. Dominic suddenly wonders whether it has really been a good idea to come here. After all, he is still not able to see or even hear Alex without the help of his phone, so why did he feel this compulsion to come here, to talk through the case in person, when he could have just as well done it over the phone?

The file, he reminds himself. He will have to retrieve the file, take it back to the Archive where it belongs. _Loaded in a box to be handed to Special Branch,_ a bitter little voice in his head speaks up, and he can’t help but agree with it.

It takes Dominic a moment to notice that Hal is beckoning him with his hand to step through into the spacious living room. Dominic looks around him, then closes his eyes for a brief moment, opening his mind to the presence of a Type 1. It only takes a second for him to locate Alex standing by the kitchen door, and he turns towards her.

“Hello, Alex,” he says, even though he knows he won’t be able to hear her reply.

“She says hello back,” says Hal, who has come to stand next to him, but keeping a careful distance.

“I think it would be easiest if you tried to call my phone again,” Dominic suggests, pulling his Blackberry from his pocket and waving it in the air in front of where he hopes Alex is still standing. It’s difficult for him to keep track when he is not concentrating one hundred percent. Dominic looks at Hal for a brief moment, trying to follow his gaze to be able to pinpoint Alex’s location. Hal’s eyes move from the kitchen door to the dining table, and Dominic’s eyes go wide as he watches one of the dining chairs move, and a moment later his phone starts vibrating in his hand and his ringtone sounds loudly in the room.

“I think you should answer that,” says Hal with a raised eyebrow, and Dominic realises he is still staring at the table.

He briefly looks at Hal, then back at the table, before pressing the button on his phone to answer the call. “Hello, Alex?” he says hesitantly.

“Hi there,” he can hear Alex’s voice loud and clear through the receiver. “Maybe you should sit down, you’re kind of starting to make me nervous just standing there.”

Dominic can’t help but snort slightly at her comment. _He_ is making _her_ nervous? But he does as she suggests and takes a seat at the table across from her, laying his phone down in front of him and pressing speaker. He looks up to where Hal is still standing, but the Type 2 doesn’t look like he is about to join them.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Hal asks, and Dominic can clearly hear the tension in his voice. Is he already affected by the bloodlust? Is this what their little encounter in the porch has been about? Whatever the reason, it seems like Hal is desperately looking for an excuse to leave the room, so Dominic obliges.

“Yes, thank you, Hal,” he says with an easy smile, which seems to make Hal’s eyes darken for a moment before he turns and all but flees into the kitchen. Dominic frowns after him for a split second before remembering Alex sitting across from him.

“Sorry about him, he… still reacts to humans, sometimes,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice, and Dominic realises she is talking about Hal’s bloodlust. “It’s so hard for him, being clean. But he’s doing so well. We should really give him all the support he needs.”

“I agree,” Dominic says, a sharp stab of guilt in his chest as the words leave his mouth. He has undoubtedly been giving Hal ‘support’, but not of the kind that Alex is speaking of. “Anyway,” he speaks up, trying to change the subject. “Should we have a look at that file?”

“Sure,” Alex agrees, and produces the heavy grey file, which has been sitting on one of the other chairs, Dominic realises. She opens it to a list of all the recorded suicides in the hotel since the 1920s and pushes it over to him. “I’ve collected these,” she pulls out a handwritten list of names, room numbers and a string of other details, “from the hotel records, and matched them up with the names of victims in your file. There has been roughly one death per year for the last thirty years or so, and they seem to have been less frequent before then.”

“Could be due to less stringent recording of incidents,” Dominic throws in.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Alex agrees, and Dominic smiles. “The interesting thing is,” the Type 1 continues, “that in the last two months, there have been two suicides and one unexplained disappearance, meaning things are obviously heating up somehow.”

“Indeed,” Dominic agrees. “I take it the ‘unexplained disappearance’ you are referring to is the hotel manager?”

There is a short pause and Dominic’s brow furrows, wondering if he’s lost the connection, before Alex suddenly says, “Sorry, I just nodded.” She sounds so sheepish that Dominic can’t help but laugh a little at the complete absurdity of the situation. He is relieved when he hears her join in.

“Something funny?” Hal’s voice sounds from the doorway, and he comes in balancing a tray with three cups of tea. He looks a little more composed, Dominic thinks, maybe the short time away from him has done him some good.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, pumpkin,” Alex says, and Dominic feels a sharp stab of something in his chest at her words. He sees Hal shoot a nervous glance over at him before raising his eyebrows at Alex with an unreadable expression on his face. Dominic’s brow furrows. There is obviously some unspoken conversation going on here, and an uneasy feeling rises in his stomach at the fact that he is not part of it.

Hal puts the tray with the three mugs on the table and sits down on Dominic’s right side. His eyes roam over the open file and papers on the table. “So, where are we?” he asks brightly, obviously trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

Dominic notices that Hal is careful not to look at him directly, but when he puts Dominic’s mug down in front of him, Dominic’s hand shoots out automatically to take it from him, and their fingertips brush. He feels heat radiating from where his skin touches Hal’s, feels that same tingle down his spine again, and just like before, he quickly pulls his hand away, hoping that Hal and Alex didn’t notice.

“I was just telling Mr Rook about what I’ve found out from the hotel records so far,” Alex finishes.

Dominic chances a quick look at Hal and sees the Type 2 nodding. “Right.”

“And I was asking Alex about the disappearance of the hotel manager – Patsy Ritter?”

Hal nods again, still not looking at him. “Yes, Patsy disappeared about a month ago. At first we thought the pressure just got too much for her, but it seems like there is more to it than that.”

“It does indeed,” Dominic agrees, glancing at Hal. The Type 2 is keeping his eyes firmly on the mug in front of him, clutching it with both hands. “So, Alex,” Dominic continues, “Hal mentioned you have a theory about who – or what – might be behind the suicides?” He looks up in the direction of where he knows Alex is sitting.

“Yes,” Alex says loudly, then adds in a quieter tone, “although I have to stress that Hal doesn’t really agree with me, do you, sweet pea?” Dominic feels another stab in his chest at the easy way she uses the endearment. Dominic sees out of the corner of his eye that Hal is shooting her an irritated look.

“I merely said that you are lacking any kind of reliable evidence,” he bites out.

“Be that as it may,” Alex continues, “I’m almost ninety-nine percent certain that one of the hotel guests has something to do with it.”

Dominic’s head snaps up. “One of the guests?” Could it be that she has come to the same conclusion he has?

“Yes,” Alex confirms. “And he has been a guest there for a very long time.”

“Captain Hatch,” says Dominic, and he can hear Alex’s sharp intake of breath through the phone line.

“What do you know about Hatch?” Alex asks, suddenly sounding _very_ interested.

Dominic knows he is on very thin ice here. If Hal ever finds out about his involvement in the Bobby incident… no, it does not bear thinking about.

“I… met him at the hotel one day. When I came to pick up Bobby. He invited me back to his room for a game of cards. We got talking and I… let’s just say I had a bad feeling about him. There was a moment where he… changed. Started saying strange, threatening things, and his voice sounded different. Like something was taking hold of him, some external force. Like, I don’t know, a… demon,” he finishes, and now suddenly he can feel Hal’s eyes on him, and he looks up from the table to meet them.

As soon as their eyes lock Dominic feels it again, that flutter in his stomach, that sudden stutter in his heartbeat, that lump rising in his throat, and he finds it impossible to look away. He is distantly aware that Alex is there, at the table with them, and that he should really, really look away now, but the sudden desire to touch, to be closer, to feel Hal’s cool skin under his fingertips and to kiss those velvety soft lips is almost too strong to resist.

“Excuse me,” he manages to choke out, finally tearing his eyes away from Hal’s. “May I use your bathroom?”

Hal, seemingly just as flustered as he is, let’s out a hoarse, “Of course. Please allow me to show you the way.” And with that, Hal gets up and gestures for Dominic to follow him upstairs.


	11. A Date, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Only once they are securely inside does the Type 2 turn around and face him, and the naked hunger in his eyes freezes Dominic in place. He swallows compulsively, unable to tear his eyes away as Hal slowly advances on him, equal parts alluring and predatory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually want to say too much about this chapter, other than I'm sorry!

I can see the end of what I begun  
A tale of love, come and gone  
Now my love, no promises  
I won’t go falling in love

\- The Big Pink, “Velvet”

   
Dominic silently follows Hal up the stairs, heart racing in his chest. This is not what he had in mind, but at the same time, he is hardly going to refuse Hal... showing him the way to the bathroom. No, not at all.

In front of him, Hal comes to a sudden stop. “This is it,” he says, not turning around to him, and from the stillness in Hal’s shoulders Dominic can tell that the Type 2 is not breathing. Dominic looks to his right, where there is a wooden door with a frosted glass window. The door is slightly ajar, and through the small gap Dominic can see that it is, indeed, the bathroom.

Dominic frowns as he pushes the door open, flicks on the light switch and steps inside, wondering for a brief moment whether he has misread the signs Hal has been giving him, but his confusion dissolves a moment later when Hal slips through the bathroom door behind him, shutting and locking it.

Only once they are securely inside does the Type 2 turn around and face him, and the naked hunger in his eyes freezes Dominic in place. He swallows compulsively, unable to tear his eyes away as Hal slowly advances on him, equal parts alluring and predatory.

“Hal?” he asks in a small, broken voice, needing to hear his voice, suddenly unsettled by his silence.

Hal comes to a halt in front of him, so close, their noses almost touching. The Type 2’s hand comes up to his shirt collar again, pulling it away, and his head moves down to his neck, where he inhales deeply for a moment.

“Mmmh, you smell so good,” Hal says against his neck in a voice that is not entirely his own, deep and raspy and animalistic. Dominic can hear a small whimper escape his lips at the sound. Hal lifts his head and locks his eyes on Dominic’s for a short moment, then leans in and captures Dominic’s lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Dominic buries his hands in Hal’s hair, tilts the Type 2’s head down to give him better access as he moves his lips against Hal’s. Hal is obviously well past any concerns for being gentle as he sucks Dominic’s bottom lip into his mouth, hard, and the next moment there is a sharp pain in Dominic’s lip. He can’t help the small cry that escapes his mouth, or the sudden way in which he pulls back and almost violently pushes Hal away from him. He brings a finger up to his lip and isn’t surprised to see it come away bloody. Lifting his eyes to Hal, he now notices that the Type 2’s fangs are extended, and his eyes are fixed on Dominic’s mouth.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Hal chokes out, but the hungry way in which he is still looking at Dominic isn’t exactly supportive of his words.

Dominic is breathing heavily, not quite sure what to say or do, so he just stands there for a moment, watching Hal watching him. Sucking his bottom lip into his own mouth to stop the blood from trickling down his chin. He expects Hal to come back to himself eventually, for his fangs to retract, but when they don’t and Hal just continues to look at him in that way, Dominic reaches a decision. Opening his shirt a little further, he extends his neck towards Hal, says, “Okay.”

To his immense surprise, however, Hal does not move in immediately. There is a small frown on his face as he looks from Dominic’s face to his neck, and back to his face, and he shakes his head. “Not there,” he says. “Your collar is lower on this shirt. She’ll notice it if you put a dressing there,” and he extends his hand, taking hold of Dominic’s and pulling his arm towards him. Slowly, carefully, he opens the buttons on his shirt cuff and rolls up his sleeve, exposing his forearm.

Dominic watches, transfixed, as Hal lifts his arm to his mouth and presses a soft, gentle kiss to the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. Dominic’s stomach flutters wildly at the sensation, and, he realises with a start, the anticipation of what’s to come next. Being able to watch Hal actually doing it, to watch as he opens his mouth, his black eyes fixed on Dominic’s as his fangs pierce his skin… Dominic feels an electric current running through his body and straight into his groin and he moans loudly. He is distantly aware of how wrong this is, that he is actually _enjoying_ this, but he can’t help it, can’t care right now. Hal’s eyes are still fixed on his, no longer black but still just as intense, burning into him, and Dominic realises that he is getting hard, and he barely resists the urge to reach down, to touch himself.

Reality comes crashing back as Hal withdraws his fangs, lets go of his arm, licks the blood from his lips. Dominic is suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the sharp pain in his wrist, and he pulls his arm in, encircling his bleeding wrist with his other hand.

“Run it under cold water,” says Hal, “It will help with the pain.” And just like that, sane and sensible Hal is back, so at odds with the voracious predator he was only moments before. It makes Dominic’s head spin.

Nevertheless, Dominic takes Hal’s advice and walks over to the sink, and he stands and watches as the water turns pink where it touches his bleeding wrist. Hal is right, the cold has an immediate soothing effect on the stinging pain, and Dominic closes his eyes, relishing the feeling. He feels strong arms circle around him and Hal nuzzling into the back of his head, and he can’t help but lean back slightly into the touch.

“I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t time yet,” Hal whispers into his hair. “You just look so… beautiful today, I couldn’t help myself.”

Dominic inhales deeply at the words, warmth spreading in his chest despite himself. No one has ever called him beautiful before. Could Hal really think…?

Dominic opens his eyes, somehow for one moment expecting to catch Hal’s reflection in the mirror above the sink, but it’s not there. Of course it isn’t. All he sees is himself, his bottom lip red and a little bit swollen where Hal has bitten it, and a slow frown building on his face.  
  
“You should probably go back downstairs, or Alex is going to come looking for us,” Hal speaks up behind him, interrupting his troubling thoughts.

Dominic turns off the tap and turns around in Hal’s arms, giving him a quizzical look. “What about you?”

“I am going to go to my room for a short while to listen to _Any Questions?_ on Radio 4,” Hal says seriously, and at Dominic’s raised eyebrows, adds, “It’s part of my routine. Alex will understand.” He pauses, lifts a hand to Dominic’s face to run a gentle thumb over his cheek, then adds in a quieter voice, “Especially with a human in the house.”

The stab of guilt Dominic felt earlier is back with a vengeance, especially when he looks down at where he is cradling his bleeding wrist. Hal follows his eyes down and frowns, then quickly drops his hands and turns away from him. Dominic watches as he walks over to the bathroom cabinet and opens a drawer, all the while feeling an acute sense of loss for the closeness they just shared. And he really shouldn’t care about closeness, because that’s not what their… arrangement is about, not what it was ever meant to be about. And yet…

A moment later Hal is back with a bandage in his hand. He holds his other hand out to him, and Dominic realises he is silently asking for his arm, so he stretches it out towards him, angry red bite marks visible on his pale skin. Hal carefully, almost reverently wraps the bandage around the wound, gently caressing Dominic’s wrist with this thumb before diligently rolling down his shirt sleeve, hiding away the evidence of what they have done.

Dominic looks up and meets Hal’s eyes, warm and hazel and surprisingly clear. He feels an overwhelming need to kiss him again, so he does, hands coming up to cup his face lightly, with no urgency at all. Hal’s arms circle back around his waist, and yes, this is what he needed, this closeness, just for a moment. He pulls away and exhales into Hal’s mouth, and they’re still so close. He touches his forehead to Hal’s for the briefest moment before turning to the door.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he says, facing away from Hal, and leaves the room without another look.

Back in the living room, Dominic can see Alex leafing through the file again, or rather, he sees the file’s pages moving of their own accord.

“Thought you’d never come back,” she mumbles, and Dominic hopes against all hope that she won’t notice his flushed cheeks, or his bitten lip.

“My apologies,” he says, somehow managing to sound a lot more composed than he feels.

“Where’s Hal disappeared to?”

Dominic clears his throat, trying to keep that calm, when there are a hundred thoughts going through his head and his wrist is still pulsing along with his heartbeat. He presses his thumb against the wound under the table, and for a moment the pain lessens. “I believe he said he’s catching the end of _Any Questions?_ on Radio 4, and that he will be back with us shortly,” Dominic recites what Hal told him.

“Huh,” says Alex, apparently not at all convinced of Hal’s reasons to disappear in the middle of their meeting. It makes alarm bells ring in Dominic’s mind. Maybe, he thinks, Hal’s cover isn’t as good as he seems to think.

“Something wrong?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

There is silence for a moment before Alex responds, “Urgh, sorry, shook my head. No, nothing’s wrong. He’s just been acting… weird, kinda squirly. I don’t know.”

 _Squirly?_ Dominic thinks to himself. _What does that even mean?_ Out loud, he says, “How so?”

“I don’t know, he’s just not quite been himself. He’s not normally this affected by humans, for a start. I mean, he’s been working at the hotel for a while now, and he’s been fine.” She pauses for a moment, then adds, “I really don’t know why I’m discussing this with you.”

“Well, to be completely honest, that makes two of us,” Dominic says quickly, glad to change the subject. “How about we get back to the matter at hand?”

“Yes, right,” Alex concurs. “So, you think Hatch is some kind of… demon?”

Dominic shakes his head. “Not Captain Hatch per se, no. Rather something that may have taken control of Captain Hatch somehow. Whether through mind control, or possession, or something else entirely, I really can’t say at the moment.”

“Interesting theory,” Hal’s voice sounds from the door, and Dominic turns to face the Type 2, who is strolling over to the table like he has not a care in the world, giving Dominic an easy smile that makes his heart skip a beat and his mouth go dry.

“Oh, so suddenly Captain Hatch is a suspect after all?” Alex snorts indignantly. “I thought there was ‘no reliable evidence’?”

“Well, there is now,” Hal explains dryly. “We have an eyewitness account.” He pointedly looks towards Dominic.

Dominic wishes he was able to see Alex, as he is sure she is rolling her eyes at Hal right now. “What about me witnessing Hatch looking at me. With my own eyes?”

Before Hal has a chance to reply, the front door opens, and Dominic hears footsteps entering the living room.

“Hiya Tom,” says Alex, just as Tom McNair’s voice drifts over from the other side of the room.

“I didn’t know we was havin’ a guest.”

Dominic turns around to face the new arrival, and McNair’s face falls.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, disdain dripping from his voice, and Dominic honestly is a little bit taken aback. What has he ever done to McNair to warrant such a reaction? But his question is answered a moment later, when the Type 3 adds, “You’re not gonna make me look after no more werewolves, are ya? ‘Cause I’m tellin’ ya now, I’m not doin’ it.”

Next to him, he can feel Hal bristle. “Tom, please, there really is no reason for such animosity,” he says and it gives Dominic a warm feeling in his gut to know that Hal is willing to stand up to his friend for him “As a matter of fact, Alex and I invited Mr Rook to discuss the hotel suicides.”

“Oh, right,” McNair says, but nonetheless narrows his eyes at Dominic as he walks past the table towards the kitchen. Just before he gets to the kitchen door, however, he seems to remember something and turns back around to address Hal again.

“Mate, you remember I told ya yesterday about that girl who phoned ‘bout that job interview?”

Hal shoots a quick glance at Dominic, and he realises they must be talking about Natasha. How very interesting.

“Yes?” Hal replies, eyes back on Tom.

“Well, I was thinkin’, right? I know it’s the weekend and all, and you’re not in work on Monday, so bein’ assistant manager and all, I was thinkin’ maybe I can do the interview?”

McNair looks slightly flushed when he finishes speaking, and Dominic’s eyes narrow. He shoots a sideways glance at Hal and sees that the Type 2 has been watching him.

“No, Tom, I don’t think that will be necessary. I can interview her on Tuesday,” Hal says, and McNair looks like he is about to protest, but at Hal’s warning glare he snaps his mouth shut and disappears into the kitchen, mumbling something along the lines of “said it wasn’t just window shoppin’”.

“So, Hal,” Alex suddenly speaks up again. “Can you please answer my question? I’ve been telling you for weeks there’s something off about Hatch. Then… blondie here comes along and suddenly you’re all sold on the idea. Care to explain?”

Dominic feels the tips of his ears go red. “Blondie?” he chokes out indignantly. He can’t believe his eyes when he sees Hal actually cracking a smile – whether as a result of her words or his reaction, he isn’t quite sure.

“Sorry,” he hears Alex’s voice through the receiver, followed by, “Hal?”

Hal’s voice is exasperated when he replies, even while he is trying to suppress the smile that is still lingering on his face, “I never said I didn’t believe you, Alex. I merely said you didn’t have very much to go on. I know you said that he saw you, but as I told you previously, he could have been looking at anything. Now, with the added information that D— Mr Rook has given us, I do believe there is a possibility that he may be involved, somehow.”

There is a long moment’s silence, while Alex is obviously taking in this information. Dominic takes the opportunity to look over at Hal and sees that the Type 2 is still smiling at him, looking almost playful. When he notices Dominic’s eyes on him, he mouths ‘blondie’ and winks, and Dominic feels himself blushing again. He darts a nervous look over to where he knows Alex is sitting, hating the fact that he can’t see her and therefore can’t tell how much of their silent exchange she is aware of.

All of a sudden, he feels Hal’s cold fingertips brush against the back of his hand under the table, where his left thumb is still pressing into the bandaged wound on his right wrist in an attempt to stop the throbbing pain. Despite his cold skin, Hal’s touch causes a warm tingle up Dominic’s arm that settles into his chest. Without him consciously thinking about it, he turns his hand over and intertwines their fingers under the table. Hal’s thumb ghosts along Dominic’s wrist at the edge of the bandage. He still feels guilty about what happened, Dominic thinks, and tightens his grip on Hal’s hand for just a moment to let him know that it’s all right.

“Okay, then,” Alex says, jolting Dominic back into the here and now. “We need to set up some kind of surveillance. See what he’s up to when we’re not around.”

Dominic nods, “Good idea, Alex.” He tries to ignore the warm flutter in his stomach at his and Hal’s continued contact under the table. “We could set up a camera in his room,” he suggests. “We have all the equipment at the Archive.”

“I thought the Archive is closing down?” Hal asks, sounding genuinely interested while his cool fingers continue caressing his wrist.

Dominic nods, gathering his thoughts. “Yes, it is. But I will be able to salvage some equipment, I am sure.” He gives Hal a small smile and loves the way his hazel eyes brighten up at the sight.

“Great,” says Alex. “So we’ve got surveillance equipment. Next step – how are we going to install it without Captain Hatch noticing?”

“Can’t you—” Dominic starts, addressing Alex, but she cuts him off.

“He can see me,” she reminds him. “To be honest, I probably need to stay as far away from him as I can, if he knows what I am, or he’ll know we are onto him.”

“I agree,” says Hal. “And if he is a supernatural, the same goes for Tom and myself. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.” He looks up at Dominic. “And he knows who you are.”

Dominic nods, thinking. “Could you ask one of your staff…?” he muses, and then the idea comes to him as clear as day. “Natasha!”

Hal’s eyes light up. “Yes,” he agrees, but then frowns. “But are you sure? If Hatch really is as dangerous as we think he is…” he trails off.

Dominic opens his mouth to reply, but never gets a chance as Alex exclaims, “Who the hell is Natasha?”

Dominic feels Hal’s eyes on him, asking a silent question, and he gives a tiny nod. “The girl I am going to interview for the hotel job on Tuesday,” Hal starts. “Her name is Natasha. She is an… acquaintance of Mr Rook’s.” Dominic is impressed that Hal is composed enough once more to get his name right the first time. Their fingers are still intertwined under the table, and Dominic gives them a tiny squeeze.

“All right,” Alex says, and Dominic can hear the frown in her voice. “An ‘acquaintance’ as in work colleague, or an ‘acquaintance’ as in girlfriend?”

Dominic can’t suppress the long-suffering sigh that escapes his lips at yet another mention of a girlfriend. “Neither, actually,” he clarifies. “Just an acquaintance.”

“Huh,” says Alex. “Human?”

“Of course,” Dominic says with a slight, indignant frown that comes almost automatically. Hal stiffens ever so slightly next to him and pulls his hand away. Dominic acutely feels the loss of contact and has to make a conscious effort not to reach out again. When has physical contact become so important to him?

“Are you sure she’s up to it?” Alex asks.

Dominic gives an emphatic nod. “Yes. She has been asking to work for my department for years. I’m sure she would rather jump at the chance.”

“That’s decided, then,” Hal says, and Dominic notices there is a tense edge to his voice. He looks up to see if Hal gives him any indication of what is wrong, but the Type 2 has a carefully closed off look on his face, his eyes completely unreadable. “I will interview Natasha on Tuesday, and brief her about the Hatch situation. As soon as the surveillance equipment is in place, we can take it in turns to review it. I don’t think continuous monitoring will be necessary.” He looks straight at Dominic when he continues, “Thank you very much for coming today, Mr Rook. We will be in touch about the equipment.”

Dominic gives a small frown at Hal’s tone. It sounds very much like Hal is wrapping up their meeting and trying to get him to leave. What is it that he said that caused the sudden change in his demeanour?

Whatever it is, Hal makes it very clear that the meeting is over when he gets up and pushes his chair under the table, then stands and waits for Dominic to do the same. Dominic gathers his phone and the heavy grey file up off the table and says his goodbyes to Alex before making his way past the bar and into the hallway. Hal is there to grab his coat off the coat rack, handing it to him without making eye contact.

“Hal?” Dominic says quietly, disconcerted by the Type 2’s behaviour. In response to his voice, Hal gives him a small warning look and the tiniest of head shakes. Alex is obviously still within earshot.

Dominic puts on his coat and walks into the small front porch. He can feel Hal entering the small space behind him and pulling the door shut, and has a sudden flashback to their very pleasurable encounter in this very space earlier today. He turns around to face the Type 2. Hal’s face is serious, eyebrows drawn together in a small frown.

“What do you want from me, Dominic?” he asks, and Dominic has to play the question over in his head a few times to try and grasp his meaning. He comes up short.

“What do you mean?” he asks honestly.

Hal takes a deep breath. “What I mean is, you come here all dressed up and gorgeous, you flirt with me and drive me to a point where I all but assault you in the bathroom,” his eyes dart down to Dominic’s wrist for a fraction of a second before looking back up into his eyes, “you hold my hand and smile at me like you mean it, but I know that deep down you are still absolutely terrified of me. Of what I am, of what it means for you to have… feelings—”

“I don’t have any kind of _feelings_ for you,” Dominic suddenly snaps, his tone icy. “You are a monster, Hal. Nothing more. I have been doing what I’m doing so I can to keep your… urges… in check. And mine. What I mean to say is, yes, I am physically attracted to you, which, yes, is disgusting and wrong, but there is nothing I can do about that. But for you to think for one second that I… You’re an animal, Hal, and people don’t fall in love with animals.” His brain is slow to catch up with the barrage that has just come out of his mouth unbidden. When it does, he feels his cheeks burn with horror and embarrassment at what he has said, and he adds, quieter, “I don’t think we should see each other again.”

It is, Dominic thinks, the first time he has ever seen Hal Yorke completely speechless. The Type 2 stands across from him, suddenly too close in the small space, mouth open but no sound escaping his lips. It must be a trick of the light, Dominic reasons, that makes Hal’s eyes glisten like that.

He swallows down the sudden, large and persistent lump in his throat, and opens the front door, desperate to be anywhere but in this small, stifling space where he can’t breathe and his heart rate is so fast it’s making the air vibrate around him. He all but runs down the path and slams the door of his silver Lexus, speeding all the way back to Cardiff.

***

Natasha’s head snaps up from the magazine she has been reading when she hears the front door of the flat open and close, and she listens to Dominic’s footsteps falling heavily along the corridor towards the living room. He stands in the doorway for a long moment, just looking at where she is curled up on the sofa, the expression on his face unreadable.

“You’re back early,” says Natasha in way of greeting. She can feel anger and frustration come off Dominic in waves, and it is so uncharacteristic for the normally so perfectly composed and detached man that it deeply unsettles her.

“The meeting finished early,” he says.

Natasha can’t help but roll her eyes at his reply. “Meeting? I thought you went to Barry on a date?”

His eyes burn with barely contained fury as he crosses the room in a few quick strides and stands in front of the fireplace, too wound up to sit down. “It wasn’t a date.”

Natasha lets out a deep sigh. “Cut the crap, Dominic. We both know that’s not true.” The fact that he doesn’t even bother correcting her language tells her how deeply affected he is by whatever happened. “Talk to me,” she pleads. It feels weird to be in this position with him, when he has always been the one she has been pouring her heart out to.

“It didn’t go well,” is all he gives her, facing away from her and busying himself with rearranging the items on the mantelpiece. She notices that he spends rather a long time dusting off an old looking, intricately carved stake, long fingers tracing lines along the carvings and pressing against the razor-sharp tip.

It hurts Natasha’s heart to see him like this. There was a time, filled with confusion and teenage angst, when she had a powerful and all-encompassing crush on the man before her. She filled pages over pages in her diary with words of anguish and longing for the blond man, her protector, her saviour. But growing up, she realised that theirs is a different kind of relationship, and that there are barriers between them that will and should never be crossed, not to mention a thirteen-year age gap.

Seeing him now, heartbroken and completely unable to deal with the emotions so clearly emanating from him, all she wants to do is throw her arms around him and never let go. But knowing Dominic as well as she does, she knows that physical contact is not normally something he appreciates, much less in the state he is obviously in at the moment, so she tries a different approach.

“Did you guys have a fight?”

His eyes snap up to her at her words. “Of sorts,” he says, and his curtness is starting to irritate her.

“Dominic, I really can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” she snaps at him, and his eyes widen at the sudden change in her tone. She feels her cheeks go slightly pink. She has never spoken to Dominic like this.

But instead of rising to her challenge, his voice is quiet and defeated when he speaks again. “I never asked you to help me.”

“Yeah, well, someone clearly has to. You obviously care about this guy… a lot. And I don’t know what happened exactly, but you look like you have no idea what to do next and, shit, I never thought I’d say this to you, but I think I’ve got a bit more experience with this kind of thing than you do.”

The expression on his face is one of pure shock at her words, and he stares at her for a long moment before he carefully schools it back to the perfect neutrality she is used to seeing from him. “You’re wrong, Tasha. I don’t… care… about him. Which is kind of the point.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he holds up a finger to silence her before continuing, “Now, I don’t want to hear another word about this, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha bites out mockingly, annoyed at his stubbornness as much as his obvious self-deception.

“Good. Now, I will be in my study for a while, I have some work to catch up on.”

“But I thought your department is—”

“Tasha!” he bellows, and she knows she has lost the battle, if not the war. She will have to retreat and carefully strategise about her available options and next steps, but one thing is crystal clear to her.

Dominic is head over heels in love with this man, whoever he is, and one way or another, she will help him to find the happiness he has been denying himself for so long.


	12. Free Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Miss Miles? Would you like to come through to my office, please?' Hal is trying his very best not to focus on the young woman’s heartbeat, but the sound is almost deafening in his ears, and it takes him a few seconds to realise that her lips have been moving, but he has missed her words completely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - angst ahead (which is hardly surprising I suppose).
> 
> Also, I mention in this chapter that Hal does not own a mobile phone - I realise he has one at the end of Series 5, Episode 4, but at all other times he uses either someone else's or the landline phone, so I have just gone with it.

Feel it crushing me, squeezing every drop  
I think I’ve lost control, it’s controlling what I’ve got  
How could I do this to the one I miss  
The one I dream about, I want to scream and shout

All I see is you, all I see is you  
All I see is you, all I see is you  
All I see is you, all I see is you  
All I see is you, all I see is you

\- The Cooper Temple Clause, “All I See Is You”

  
The next two days go by in a bit of a haze for Hal, and it is only while he is sitting at the little round table in his room on a rainy Monday evening, trying to arrange his dominoes into a perfect spiral, that he really allows himself to think about Dominic’s words to him.

_You’re an animal, Hal, and people don’t fall in love with animals._

He hates the way Dominic stressed the word ‘people’, like it was so obviously excluding him. It stung almost worse than being called an animal in the first place.

But what hurts him even more than any of those words is the fact that he _knows_ Dominic was lying – to himself just as much as to Hal. He felt it, their gentle intimacy in the bathroom after he bandaged his arm, the way he looked at him at the table. The way they were _holding hands_ under the table, for fuck’s sake. And yet Dominic seems to have convinced himself that he is incapable of having any such emotions for a creature as utterly undeserving as him.

_I don’t think we should see each other again._

With everything else that went around his head at the time, Hal did not fully realise the implications of those words on the other aspect of their arrangement. Now, two days later, the hunger has firmly taken hold of him again, gripping him like a vice. Here, in the safety of his bedroom with his dominoes and the soothing drone of Mark Lawson’s voice in _Front Row_ talking about those bizarre books about sparkling vampires, he can just about keep a lid on it. Yet even now he feels his hand shaking ever so slightly when placing the next domino, and perhaps his spiral is not quite the perfect circle he would usually create.

The small amount he took from Dominic’s wrist that day is hardly worth mentioning, and it has been four days now since he has properly fed. He is under no illusion that by the time he goes back to work tomorrow, the hunger will be so strong that he will put everyone at the hotel at risk just by being there. And what are his options, realistically? Tom and Alex can’t know, that much he is sure of, but going cold turkey without support will never, ever work for him. After five hundred years the bloodlust is so strong that the thought alone is ludicrous. But what are the alternatives?

He could try and find another willing donor. They are out there, he knows, happy to donate a small amount of blood in return for money or… other services. Hal bristles at the idea, his mind suddenly flooded with unbidden memories of other, less fortunate times, and he quickly shuts the door on those thoughts.

He knows that at a real push he could break into a blood bank, but the thought alone of the bitter and lasting aftertaste of the anticoagulant is making his stomach turn.

No, there is nothing for it, he thinks. He will have to try and speak to Dominic, beg if he has to, maybe even ask for another flask like he gave him all those weeks ago, if it means just staving off the hunger for a little while longer.

Placing the last domino on the outside of his slightly wonky spiral, Hal gets up and makes his way downstairs. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in possession of a mobile phone like Alex and Dominic have, just so he wasn’t so reliant on the reception phone, which can be overheard from more or less anywhere in the house.

Luckily for him, Alex is not in the living room when he gets downstairs, and Tom is still at the hotel until at least 8pm. He makes his way over to the green phone and dials Dominic’s number. It rings for a good long while before Dominic’s voice suddenly rings out.

“You have reached Dominic Rook’s phone. I am currently not available. Please leave a message and I will call you back as soon as I can.” The voice is followed by a loud beep straight into Hal’s ear. Voicemail, he remembers.

“Hello, Dominic?” he says hesitantly into the receiver. “This is Hal. I, erm, I know you said we shouldn’t see each other again, and I respect that. It’s just, I guess you could say I am in a little bit of a tight spot, and I could really do with your help. Please call me back when you get this message.” He is about to end the call when he quickly adds, “Thanks.”

His hand is shaking more now, he notices as he places the receiver back down on the phone, and he is starting to break out in a cold sweat. The thought alone of Dominic, the memory of his deliciously sweet blood in his mouth, is enough to drive him insane with need. O negative, Hal thinks distractedly. It’s always been his favourite. These thoughts are really not helping, though, so he makes his way back up to his room to carefully take down his domino spiral. Once he has stored all the pieces away in their box and shut the lid, he pulls off his t-shirt and drops to the floor, in need of a slightly more physical distraction. He starts counting along with his press-ups, forces himself to visualise the numbers in his mind, but by the time he reaches ten, the numbers have started to turn red and drip with blood, and when he has counted to twenty, images of Dominic’s pale neck appear in their stead, carotid artery pulsing under his skin, and Hal feels his arms shaking wildly before he collapses in a heap on the floor.

***

“Dominic?” Natasha voice carries over from the doorway.

Dominic doesn’t even bother looking up from his laptop screen, even though he hasn’t been able to concentrate on what he has been reading for the last half hour at least.

“Please, Dominic, tell me what’s going on.” Natasha’s voice is insistent as she crosses the room and places a mug of tea on the desk in front of him. “Ever since you came back from Barry on Saturday, you’ve barely spoken. Like, at all.” He pointedly ignores her, but being her usual stubborn self, Natasha doesn’t just leave. “Look, I get that you are upset about what happened, but as I said before, I can’t help you if—”

“And as I’ve said before, Natasha, I didn’t ask for your help,” Dominic snaps. He has had enough of her interference. It is hard enough for him not to think about what happened without her constantly reminding him of it.

His phone starts ringing on his desk, and he quickly glances at the screen to see _Honolulu Heights_ appear on it in big white letters. He flares his nostrils at the offending device and turns back to his laptop, trying to ignore the persistent whirring of plastic vibrating against wood.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Natasha asks, pointedly looking at the phone.

“No.” His voice leaves no room for debate.

“Dominic,” Natasha presses on, eyes boring into him.

“No.”

She reaches out to pick up the phone, and Dominic grabs her hand rather more forcefully than he meant to, making the two red marks under his sleeve throb slightly as a result.

“I said no,” he says with an air of finality, carefully letting go of Natasha’s hand before absentmindedly bringing up his other hand to massage small circles into his wrist.

Unfortunately, the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. “Is your wrist okay?”

Dominic immediately drops his other hand, looks up at her questioning eyes. “Yes. It’s nothing. Must have slept on it funny.”

“Huh,” she says, obviously not completely convinced but happy to let it go. The phone has stopped vibrating, Dominic notices with a sense of relief. He turns back to his laptop, going back to ignoring Natasha in the hope that she will finally leave him alone, but of course he has no such luck. “What are you working on, anyway?”

“The Barry suicides,” Dominic says, and decides that he might as well fill her in on the latest developments. Anything to take her – and his – mind off of the Hal situation. Not that there is a situation, because he has ended the situation. But still. “Natasha, how do you fancy doing some undercover work for me?” he asks nonchalantly, and the shocked look he receives in response actually makes a small smile appear on his face.

“Are you serious?” she asks, and at the hint of a nod of his head, he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Natasha. He awkwardly pats her on the back, but makes it very clear that she is invading his personal space, and she reluctantly pulls back, looking slightly sheepish. “Sorry. But, really? I mean, I thought you said—”

“I changed my mind,” he says quickly.

“Well, thanks for that,” she beams at him. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise. What do you need me to do?”

Dominic explains their plan to her, sure to mention that it has been discussed with the hotel manager, and that as a result tomorrow’s interview is more or less just going to be a formality. “That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour, though, Tasha,” he finishes with a small smile.

“Of course I will,” she says with an eye roll. Her expression turns serious when she continues, “So the manager is aware of what’s going on?”

“To an extent,” Dominic replies, trying hard to ignore the uncomfortable lurch in his stomach when he allows himself to think about ‘the manager’. “As the hotel itself seems so intricately linked to the case, it was impossible not to get at least the manager involved. Let’s say he knows what he needs to know.”

“Okay,” Natasha says, but then a frown appears on her face and she adds, “So why couldn’t he install the equipment?”

Dominic decides that he they have spent rather more than enough time already talking about Hal, and instead of trying to give her another hare-brained explanation, he just looks at her sternly and says, “Do you want the job, Tasha, or not? Because I’m sure I can persuade one of my ex-employees to agree to a freelance undercover operation.”

“No, no, I’ll do it,” she says quickly.

Dominic smiles at her. “Good girl.”

***

Hal is sitting on the cold tile floor of the hotel’s utility room, shaking uncontrollably. The persistent, unrelenting proximity of humans all around him has nurtured his hunger into a constant, white-hot, searing pain in his gut that turns his stomach into knots and takes his breath away. He tries to concentrate on taking slow, even breaths, but even with his best efforts he can’t stop himself from hyperventilating. He can feel his fangs trying to extend and bites down hard on his lip to try and stop them. He is surprised at the sudden taste of blood on his tongue, diluted and weak, but enough to soothe his burning hunger for a short moment, and he gratefully licks it off his lip, taking the opportunity to gulp in a much-needed deep breath of air.

A quick look at his watch tells him that it is quarter to two, which means he has only fifteen minutes until his interview with Natasha. In his current state, he is fairly sure he will rip the poor girl’s throat out. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and starts reciting the first act of _The Pirates of Penzance_ , willing the hunger into submission. The familiarity of the words on his tongue combined with the lingering taste of his own blood in his mouth slowly make the burning pain subside into a dull ache.

Hal feels a breeze on the sweat-damp skin of his face as the door to the utility room opens.

“Hal? You in ‘ere, mate?” Tom’s voice floats in from the door, and Hal jumps to his feet. Tom’s eyes fix on him and his eyebrows arch with concern. “You all right?”

Hal takes a deep, shaky breath, not really trusting himself to speak.

“Hal?” Tom’s voice is insistent.

“I’m okay, Tom,” he finally forces out, and is pleased to hear that his voice sounds surprisingly steady.

Tom’s eyes wander up and down his shaking frame. “Well, you don’t look it.”

“Well, I am,” Hal retorts, a little bit more forceful than he intended.

“All right, mate, no need to bite me ‘ead off,” Tom mumbles, then adds, “Just wanted to let ya know that Natasha’s here. She’s waitin’ in the dining room.”

_She’s early. Why is she early?_

The look on Tom’s face is still one of confusion and concern, and Hal takes another deep breath, trying to focus on the last remainder of his own blood he can taste in his mouth. It has to be enough.

“Thanks, Tom, I’ll be right there.”

***

Dominic is sitting on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the rivulets of water running down the outside of the window, absentmindedly picking at the scabs on his wrist. With Natasha out of the flat and all the way over in Barry, he can for once allow his mind to wander.

The longer he has had to think about what happened that day at Honolulu Heights, the less certain he is that he really even _wants_ to think about it. Because he knows, of course, that Hal was right. The reason he has been giving him mixed signals is that, despite everything he has ever learnt about right and wrong, humans and monsters, Type 2s and curses and blood addiction, Dominic can’t deny the simple truth that he has been developing… feelings… for this Type 2.

 _Type 2s are_ not _people Dominic. They are vicious monsters, and I will not tolerate my son associating with creatures like that._ His father’s voice echoes in his head, and he closes his eyes, trying to shut the memory away. His father was wrong, he can see that now. Hal is not just a vicious animal, he is so much more than that.

He knows that, standing across from him in the enclosed front porch of Honolulu Heights, there was a part of him that just wanted to throw his arms around Hal, touch their foreheads together and confess that, yes, he is falling in love with him and yes, he wants to be with him in a way that goes frighteningly beyond their current arrangement. Fortunately for him, his voice of reason prevailed, and he did the only thing he could think of to get out of the situation with his dignity in one piece.

Except, he didn’t anticipate then that he has already fallen way too far to just get up and walk away, that sitting here, now, watching the rain trickling down the window of his big, empty flat, his longing for Hal is so strong that it aches inside of him, like a hunger gnawing at his gut, or a lack of oxygen in his lungs.

A sudden twinge in his wrist startles him from his thoughts, and he looks down to see the tips of his fingers tinged red where they have been picking the scab off one of the two small bite marks. He quickly brings his wrist up to his mouth and closes his lips over the reopened wound, and the coppery taste brings back memories that cause his stomach to flutter entirely inappropriately. He knows from previous experience that the wounds should be a lot further along after three days – usually they would have healed over by now, no more than slightly raised pink marks on his skin. He was surprised the first time to find that the bite marks seem to heal quicker than regular wounds. Some sort of Type 2 magic, no doubt.

Unfortunately, Dominic seems to have developed an odd new habit of picking at the wounds, which seems to have prolonged the healing process. He carefully removes his mouth from his wrist to assess the damage. The bleeding has all but stopped already, no dressing necessary this time.

Dominic drops his arm to his lap and gazes back out the window, eyes wandering down where he can just make out a couple of umbrellas – one black, one red – moving along the pavement at a steady pace, and a young man with a leather bag over his head running in the opposite direction on the other side of the road. He follows the young man’s long strides for a couple of seconds before he disappears from view around a corner. When his eyes return to the couple with the umbrellas, he notices that they have stopped outside the apartment building next to his own, and he can just about make out the petite form of a woman leaning in and giving the taller figure under the black umbrella a small peck on the cheek before turning and unlocking the door to the building.

Dominic realises with a pang that he has spent rather a lot of his life like this, watching, observing from the side-lines, while the rest of humanity are going about their lives. Never quite fitting in, never truly belonging. Perhaps, he thinks bitterly, it is no coincidence that the one time he really, truly felt connected to someone else, that someone else turned out to be a non-human. Perhaps he and other humans just don’t mix.

Umbrella man has continued his way up the road and out of sight, and the pavement outside is once again empty. Dominic’s thoughts wander to Natasha, who is right at this moment at the Barry Grand, speaking to Hal. She asked him to drive her to Barry, and he declined with a frown and an irritated, “Most certainly not!”, yet now he can’t imagine anywhere he would rather be, and he hates himself for feeling that way, but he just doesn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. His life has been turned upside down at a frightening pace, and he feels like he is in free fall, unsure of where and when he is going to land. All he knows, with a certainty that’s sickening and exciting in equal measures, is that when he finally does, he wants Hal to be there with him.

***

“Miss Miles? Would you like to come through to my office, please?” Hal is trying his very best not to focus on the young woman’s heartbeat, but the sound is almost deafening in his ears, and it takes him a few seconds to realise that her lips have been moving, but he has missed her words completely.

“Excuse me?” he says, aiming for nonchalance.

“I said thank you for seeing me, Mr Yorke. And please call me Natasha.” Her voice sounds pleasant enough, but she is nervous. Her heart rate has increased, as has her breathing, and the slight tremble in her fingers is just serving to increase blood flow into her hands. Hal visualises the brachial artery running down from her shoulder and down her pale, slim arm, splitting into ulnar and radial arteries just below her elbow, and he follows the latter down the inside of her forearm, coming so deliciously close to the surface, so easy to get to, so inviting…

Her voice jolts him from his thoughts, and he fixes his eyes on her face instead. “Are you all right? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

Hal shakes himself, clears his throat. “I’m fine. Shall we… get started?” He gestures for her to enter the office. She frowns slightly, but complies, coming tantalisingly close to him as she walks past him into the small room. “Please have a seat,” Hal says, indicating the chair in front of the desk while making his own way around the heavy wooden desk to bring as much distance between himself and the young woman as possible in the confined space.

Once they are both settled at the desk, Hal smiles at Natasha, doing his best to look natural without actually breathing at all, which is a skill he has more or less perfected in the last five hundred years. After a moment, he feels the hunger subside just enough to be able to focus on the job at hand, and he gulps in just enough air to form a sentence.

“Natasha,” he starts. “Can you tell me a little bit about yourself, your previous work history, and why you have applied to work at the Barry Grand?”

Natasha gives him a tiny, lopsided smile. “I thought the interview was only going to be a formality?” she asks.

“That doesn’t mean we don’t want to know a little bit about who we allow to work in our hotel,” Hal bites out a bit harsher than intended. _Relax, you can do this. Just focus on the questions for now. Follow the plan. Play with her for a bit before… No! Focus. You’re not some pathetic new recruit, you know how to control yourself, for fuck’s sake!_

His eyes return to Natasha, who still looks at him with that lopsided smile. “Fine,” she says, like she has decided to play along for now. “I’ve worked in a few cafés and pubs in London and Cardiff, as well as some shops – nothing fancy, you know, Tesco, Topshop, Boots… whatever I could get, really. Never stayed anywhere for long.”

“Why is that, then?” Hal asks, genuinely interested, if only to stop his mind from wandering back to thoughts of leaping across the desk and ripping into that invitingly exposed neck in front of him.

“I move around a lot,” Natasha says with a shrug, and looks directly at Hal, waiting for his next question, clearly not wishing to give any more information. Hal knows enough about her background that he understands her reluctance, and decides not to press her any more on the subject.

The next few minutes go by in a bit of a blur, with Hal dutifully reciting the questions on his list and Natasha giving short but appropriate answers, clearly slightly disconcerted by his alternating absentmindedness and abruptness, but eager enough for the job to look past the manager’s slight eccentricities for now. Hal tries to stay as professional as he possibly can, taking measured breaks from breathing in her enticing scent whenever it is her turn to speak, and all is going well until close to the end of the interview, when she opens her mouth and says, “Thank you again for agreeing to see me. I know it was mostly Dominic’s doing, but I’m still grateful.”

Hearing his name spoken in the headspace he is currently in makes Hal’s hunger flare like someone poured oil on the fire in his gut, and he presses his eyes closed, feeling a cold sweat starting up on his brow. His fangs are threatening to extend and he bites painfully into the inside of his lip again, hoping this time to draw a small amount of blood to calm him, allow him to refocus, get this over with.

“Mr Yorke?” Her voice is hesitant, concerned.

He is reluctant to open his eyes, fearing they may have gone black. It’s impossible to tell with them closed.

“Mr Yorke, are you all right? Do you need me to do anything? Call anyone?” She is starting to sound more frantic now, and he knows he has to do something, move, open his eyes, speak, but the tiny trickle of diluted blood from his lower lip is barely enough to ground him, and he still doesn’t trust himself to open his eyes. He cannot manifest in front of Natasha. Dominic will never forgive him if he does. Then again, what does he even care what Dominic thinks? The man has made it very clear he would never want to see him again. And after all it is Dominic’s fault he is in this situation in the first place.

Taking a small, measured breath, Hal slowly opens his eyes, fixing them on the young woman across from him. Her eyebrows are drawn together in concern and she is staring straight back into his eyes, not recoiling in fear. Not black, then.

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” he chokes out, barely audible, as he doesn’t trust himself to breathe in enough air to speak properly. “Migraine,” he adds in a gasped whisper, hoping it will be enough to get her to leave.

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say anything for a moment, obviously thinking about the right thing to do in such a circumstance. _Leave,_ Hal thinks desperately, _please, just leave. Get out while you can, before I rip you to pieces._ He feels his eyes close again of their own accord.

“I should go,” Natasha says finally, and he hears her getting up and lifting her bag off the floor.

Hal takes in one last breath through his mouth and says, “Thank you, Natasha. We will be in touch,” and he listens to her footsteps across the floor of the small room, the door opening and closing, more footsteps across the foyer outside, and only once the front door has closed behind her does he gulp in a deep breath of air. His eyes open and he is not surprised to see the familiar shift of colours as his eyes have gone black. His fangs have extended now, as well, and he sits back at his desk for a long moment, trying to regain his composure.

The other one is so close now, he can feel it. Every time he lets himself go like this, he gets a little bit closer. There is a part of him that would welcome him back with open arms, to feel so powerful, so carefree again. To be free of all this guilt and shame and empathy. He should just give in, just let him take over, it would be so easy…

_No. You’re better than this, Hal. You’re stronger than this. Think of Leo and Pearl, and Tom and Alex. Think of Dominic. You know he didn’t mean what he said. Go to him and make him understand, make him see that he can stop lying to himself. You can do it, but only if you don’t give in to him._

Hal manages to calm himself enough that the world shifts back to normal in front of his eyes, and he can slowly feel his fangs retract, leaving a slight, dull ache in their wake. He jumps up from his desk and makes his way across the hotel foyer, stopping for a moment at the reception desk.

“Tom?” he addresses his friend.

Tom’s head snaps up from where he has been scribbling something in the guest register. “Yeah, mate? How’d it go?”

“Very well, but I’m afraid I will have to leave early today. I’m feeling particularly… _unsociable_ today.” He puts as much weight into the one word as he possibly can, hoping Tom will get his meaning without reading too much into it.

“Yeah, all right,” the werewolf replies, eyebrows drawn together. Hal is about to walk out the door when Tom speaks up again. “Hal?”

“Yes, Tom?” he replies with as much patience as he can muster. Admittedly, it isn’t very much.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Tom says then, and Hal feels his stomach drop. He turns around and fixes narrowed eyes on Tom.

“Noticed what, exactly?” he says, trying to sound defensive, but failing miserably. He knows what comes next. A part of him has been waiting for it ever since he started seeing Dominic two weeks ago.

“The way you’ve been actin’ recently – you might fool Alex with your stories ‘bout Kia-Ora and stuff, but I’m not stupid. I’ve been around enough vampires to see what’s really goin’ on, Hal.”

Hal feels like all the colour has drained out of his face as he stares at his friend with wide, terrified eyes. “Listen, Tom, I can explain—”

“Shove it, Hal,” Tom snaps and the next thing he knows is that the werewolf has come around the reception desk and is grabbing him by his collar and roughly pushing him back into the manager’s office. “Sit,” he orders, and Hal, too stunned to do anything else, sits in the chair in front of the desk, still never taking his eyes off his friend, who lingers by the door. “How long?” Tom asks.

Hal takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, says, “Two weeks.”

“Figures,” Tom says, then lets out a heavy sigh before continuing. “Have you been killin’ people?”

That’s an easy one to answer, at least. It might get him back into Tom’s good books, to an extent. He opens his eyes, fixes them on Tom. “No.”

“Huh.” Tom frowns, bites his bottom lip distractedly, and it makes Hal want to do the same, but he daren’t, not here, not now, not with Tom watching his every move like a hawk. “Where’d ya get it from, then?”

Hal swallows. “I’ve got a… source. A safe one. No one is getting hurt, Tom, I promise!” He hates the way his voice is getting higher towards the end, so desperate, so pathetic.

“Yeah, well, Hal, that still don’t make it okay!” Tom retorts, voice raised slightly. Hal watches his friend’s expression morph from anger to disgust as he adds, “You really are all the same, aren’t ya. I thought you were different, but I shouldn’t of bothered.”

“Please, Tom, it was an accident,” Hal hears himself say, and now that is a downright lie, and not even a good one. How did he think this would possibly help him?

Tom, predictably, huffs. “An accident.”

Hal closes his eyes. “Yes. The first time was. After that, I just had to find a consensual source that would… keep it under control, without me putting anyone else at risk.”

There is silence in the small room for a long time, and Hal opens his eyes again, looking at Tom. His friend’s face is carefully closed off now, and he looks deep in thought. Not a look he has seen on his face very often, Hal thinks, but pushes the thought away. Taunting the werewolf would certainly not be a good next step.

“It’s not workin’ very well for ya, though, is it?” Tom says finally.

Hal has to give it to him, his friend is a lot more observant than he has given him credit for up until now. “There have been a few… hiccups… in the arrangement,” he concurs, and Tom nods.

“You were on your way there just now,” he states, and it’s Hal’s turn to nod.

“Yes. And I would appreciate it if you let me do just that, before I end up doing something we will both regret.” Some of his old sense of control is coming back to him, and he basks in it for a moment, looking almost smug.

“Okay,” Tom says quietly, and Hal makes the mistake of making eye contact with his friend. Where there was anger and disgust only minutes before, now there is only disappointment and resignation, and it makes him feel so much worse. “Go then. But don’t think this is over, Hal. We’ll talk about it when you get back tonight.”

Hal nods, but then an urgent thought enters his mind. “Please don’t tell Alex,” he pleads. He couldn’t deal with her disappointment as well as Tom’s. Not yet.

“She’ll have to know eventually, mate,” Tom says quietly, but gives a small, reluctant nod nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

“Go,” is all Tom says in return, not looking at him anymore. Waves over waves of guilt and shame wash over Hal, and once again he wishes he could just be free of it all. Keeping his eyes trained firmly on the floor, he quickly exits the office, hoping he hasn’t lost his best friend forever.


	13. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic sighs, wondering how on Earth he has landed himself in this mess of a situation. His neck is pulsing with a sharp pain, Hal is still standing so very close and there is Natasha, scrutinising them and it all feels wrong, somehow, like his whole relationship (and can he even really call it that?) with Hal is playing out in reverse. He should be talking to Hal, apologising, even, for his hurtful words, exploring those dangerous new feelings in a slow and controlled way. Instead, he finds himself forced into a role that he is not even sure he wants to take on, and it’s all going decidedly too quickly for him."

I am a moth  
Who just wants to share your light  
I’m just an insect  
Trying to get out of the night  
I only stick with you  
Because there are no others  
  
You are all I need  
You are all I need  
I’m in the middle of your picture  
Lying in the leaves

\- Radiohead, “All I Need”

  
“You didn’t mention he was cute,” Natasha says as she walks over to Dominic, who has taken a seat on the sofa, half watching the BBC News channel while once again absentmindedly rubbing at his wrist.

At hearing her voice, his head snaps up and his brow creases. “Who?”

“The manager, of course,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes and flopping down on the sofa next to him, reaching for the small plate of biscuits on the coffee table. She holds it out to Dominic. “Want one?”

He flicks confused eyes between her and the biscuits for a moment before taking one. “Thanks.”

They sit in silence for a minute, and Dominic’s mind goes into overdrive. Did Natasha just say she thinks Hal is _cute_?

“He’s a lot younger than I expected,” Natasha speaks up again, and Dominic sighs. He really doesn’t want to talk about this. “Can’t be more than, I don’t know, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” Dominic blurts out, a useless bit of information he has mulled over in his head far too many times. As if a perceived age gap isn’t the very least of their impressively long list of much more urgent problems. And to be completely fair, he isn’t even sure how accurate his records are, all he knows is that Hal’s recorded date of birth in his file is _c. 1490 AD._

“Huh,” Natasha says, obviously not the least bit surprised that Dominic should know everything there is to know about people he works with on a case. “Bit young to be a hotel manager, don’t you think?”

“From what I understand, he is acting manager, Tasha. The previous manager disappeared rather unexpectedly not too long ago. Which is one of the reasons I am investigating the hotel.” He is trying hard to keep his voice matter of fact and to steer the conversation away from Hal.

“Yeah, all right,” Natasha concurs. “He is a bit odd though.”

Dominic gives her a curious look. “Odd in what sense?”

Natasha bites her lip. “I don’t know. Just odd. Like, he was really… preoccupied while I was there, and at the end he basically just sat there with his eyes squeezed shut. Said he had a migraine, but it just seemed off, somehow.”

Dominic takes a deep breath, and his heart gives a small lurch. Hal is obviously in a much worse state than he has anticipated.And in all honesty, he hasn’t given it all that much thought in the last three days.

“He just sat there, though? I mean, he didn’t… do anything to you?” he says hesitantly, hoping he is not giving too much away. It sickens him to think that he put Natasha in danger like that, through his own thoughtless actions no less.

Natasha shakes her head, frowning. “No. I mean, what do you mean, ‘do anything’?”

“You know, try anything?” Dominic attempts to clarify, but the confusion on Natasha’s face just deepens.

“No, of course not. Do you think I would have come in and said he was cute if he tried to… sexually assault me or something?”

“No,” Dominic shakes his head, giving a small smile. “Of course not, Tasha.”

He can tell she is about to say something else, but a loud, persistent knocking at the door interrupts their conversation.

Dominic frowns in the general direction of the door. He is not expecting anyone. There are no repairs or gas or electricity checks scheduled, he is not expecting any confidential mail or packages, barely anyone even knows his address… then a thought spreads in his mind like wildfire. Hal. Of course he would come here, from what Natasha has just told him he was barely holding it together at the hotel. He should be relieved, Dominic thinks briefly, that he would come to him rather than attack a random stranger in the street. But how is he going to explain…?

“I think you should answer the door, Dominic,” Natasha says with a raised eyebrow and a small, crooked smile, and his eyes dart towards her.

He gives a brisk nod and says, “Yes, I’ll get it.”

He all but sprints to the front door, taking a few deep breaths while the knocking becomes more and more insistent. His heart is racing in his chest as he finally places his hand down on the handle and pulls the door open.

Hal looks a mess. His whole body is shaking, his hair and face are damp from sweat and rain, and his red-rimmed eyes bore into Dominic with a desperation the like of which he has never seen on the Type 2’s handsome face. He doesn’t say anything, and Dominic’s practised eyes pick up straight away that he is not breathing.

He gives a small nod. “Come in.”

Hal’s eyes convey how profoundly grateful he is, even without him saying a single word. Dominic leads Hal down the hall, but halts before they reach the living room door, turning around to face the Type 2.

“Hal, Natasha is here,” he explains under his breath, and he sees Hal swallow and nod, showing that he understands. He places his hands on Hal’s shoulders and looks directly into his eyes as he continues, “She’s probably going to want to know who was at the door, so I think it’s best if we just go in and say hi, but we will sort you out very soon, I promise.”

Hal gives him another small nod, lips pressed tightly together, and Dominic briefly wonders whether his fangs have extended. He has never seen the Type 2 like this, and to be honest, the last thing he wants to do is to bring him anywhere near Natasha, but he also knows that he has no choice.

With a deep breath, he re-enters the living room and feels Hal’s presence close behind him. Natasha looks up from the TV when they enter the room, and her eyebrows almost hit her hairline.

“Tasha, I trust you have met Hal,” Dominic says, trying to sound casual, but his voice just ends up the slightest bit strangled.

“Yeah,” Natasha draws out the sound, looking curiously back and forth between Dominic and Hal. “Hi again, Hal.”

Hal inclines his head next to him, takes a short, measured breath, says, “Natasha.” And God, his voice sounds awful. Raspy and raw, with barely enough air to even produce the single word.

Dominic knows he should be saying something, explain why it is that the manager of the Barry Grand is all of a sudden standing in his living room, but his mind comes up disappointingly blank, and he instead puts all his energy into positioning himself in such a way that Natasha can’t see Hal’s (lack of) reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece.

Natasha’s eyes are still darting between the two of them. He can see the cogwheels in her mind turning. Any moment now she is going to say it, he just knows it. Any moment now, and he has no idea how to prevent it. Three, two, one…

“You’re the boyfriend.”

There it is. Natasha barks out a short, disbelieving laugh. Dominic can feel Hal’s eyes on him, questioning, accusing, and he closes his eyes, tries to focus on taking slow, measured breaths. As much as he tries, though, he can’t prevent the sudden rush of blood into his cheeks at her words. “Tasha…” he all but pleads, but of course she won’t listen. She never does.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she says, incredulously, and to Dominic’s immense surprise, he hears Hal take a deep breath next to him, preparing to speak.

“We thought it would be a good idea to keep things professional,” he says, even as he raises an eyebrow at Dominic in a silent challenge to explain to him what the hell he has said to Natasha. And oh, can this situation get any more awkward?

“Right,” says Natasha, sounding less than convinced, but then adds, “Well, that explains all the secrecy, at least,” and Dominic lets out a small breath of relief. He can work with this.

“Yes, well, exactly. It would have rather given the game away if I’d given you Hal’s name, don’t you think?” He forces a smile that comes out more like a grimace.

“I take it you guys have made up, then?” she says, frowning. “Last thing I knew, you were moping around the flat, saying you’d never see each other again.”

Hal is taking another deep breath and, before Dominic has a chance to reply, says, “I have come to apologise, actually.”

 _He’s an even better liar than I am,_ Dominic thinks gloomily, but shoots Hal a grateful look nonetheless. The Type 2 looks like he is about to drop, and Dominic knows he has to get him out of here, now, if he wants to save the situation.

“Hal, would you mind coming with me for a moment?” He makes it sound like he wants to have a private conversation away from prying ears, and thankfully Natasha takes the hint.

“Err, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go to the bathroom,” she says and gets up, quickly crossing the room and disappearing into the hallway.

As soon as she is out of the room, Hal turns to Dominic. “Boyfriend?” he whispers harshly, and Dominic swallows repeatedly.

“I’ll explain later,” he says. “Let’s get you sorted out for now. Follow me.”

Without looking behind him, he makes his way from the living room into the adjacent kitchen, where he opens a drawer and pulls out a pack of adhesive dressings. He removes one and places it on the counter next to him before putting the pack away in the drawer and facing Hal.

The Type 2’s eyes are bloodshot, gaze homing in on Dominic’s neck as soon as they are face to face in the small space of the kitchen. Dominic’s hand comes up to undo a couple of his shirt buttons, and Hal’s own, shaking hand covers his before he can drop it.

“Thank you for doing this,” Hal whispers. The rawness of his voice is making Dominic’s own throat constrict.

“It’s okay,” he says. With his right hand still covered by Hal’s at about the height of his collarbone, his free hand comes up to cup Hal’s face, and he all but guides the Type 2’s head to the crook of his neck, where there are two shiny pink marks waiting to be pierced again.

Dominic braces himself for the feeling of Hal’s fangs penetrating his skin. He hates himself for the fact that there is an excited rush running through his body at the prospect of it, and that he can feel the tender beginnings of arousal stirring at the pit of his stomach.

What he didn’t factor in is that Hal is rushed and desperate today and rather than the pleasantly sharp sting he was expecting, he feels Hal clumsily tearing into his throat and it _hurts_. Dominic clenches his teeth against the pain but can't prevent the small whimper escaping his lips. Without him having to do anything, Hal pulls back before the ten seconds are even up, and Dominic briefly wonders if he heard him. From his experience so far, nothing much gets through to him while he is feeding.

Hal places a soft kiss on his neck and Dominic can feel the tip of his tongue emerge to lick away the twin trickle of blood from the two wounds, which feel rather larger today than they have done in the past, probably due to Hal’s less than elegant technique. Hal spends a long time ‘cleaning up’ the wound with his tongue, and Dominic feels arousal stir in him again at the ministrations. Once he is apparently satisfied with the result, Hal picks up the dressing that is lying ready on the counter and carefully places it over the wound. He pulls back and looks at Dominic, hazel eyes now warm and gentle again.

“Sorry,” he whispers. He _did_ hear him then. Dominic shakes his head as he buttons up his shirt.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and they are standing so close, he would just have to lean in and he could brush his lips—

“Dominic? Hal?” Natasha’s voice drifts in from the living room. Dominic curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment to will away the image of Hal’s lips, so close to his own.

“In here,” Dominic calls. “Just making some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure,” she says. She has crossed the room and is leaning in the doorway to the kitchen. She looks between them with a smile playing on her lips. “You two were so snogging just now.”

Dominic feels heat creeping up into his cheeks. Whether it is because of what she said or the knowledge of what they were actually doing just moments before, he isn’t sure. He plasters on his best scandalised look and scolds, “Natasha! Please!”

“Oh, come on, Dominic. It’s about time for you to loosen up a bit and have some fun.” She grins.

Dominic sighs, wondering how on Earth he has landed himself in this mess of a situation. His neck is pulsing with a sharp pain, Hal is still standing so very close and there is Natasha, scrutinising them and it all feels wrong, somehow, like his whole relationship (and can he even really call it that?) with Hal is playing out in reverse. He should be talking to Hal, apologising, even, for his hurtful words, exploring those dangerous new feelings in a slow and controlled way. Instead, he finds himself forced into a role that he is not even sure he wants to take on, and it’s all going decidedly too quickly for him.

Coming out of his thoughts, he can hear Hal chuckling lightly next to him. He has obviously relaxed a bit now that the bloodlust is back under control, and Dominic can see the beginnings of the reckless streak that seems to always overcome him after feeding. Just as long as he manages to control himself in front of Natasha

“I have to say, Dominic, I agree,” Hal says, and there is a twinkle in his eyes and Dominic barely has the time to register what is happening before Hal leans in and pecks him on the cheek. It’s only the briefest touch of cool lips to skin, but the effect is instantaneous. Dominic’s cheeks feel like they are aflame, and he looks up at Natasha, whose eyes, he notices gratefully, are as wide as his own at the unexpected display of affection.

“Oh my God, this is bizarre,” she breathes, a big grin settling on her face. She looks over to the kettle, which is, of course, not even on. “I thought you said you were making tea?” she says teasingly.

“Yes, well… got distracted,” Dominic shoots back, and is insanely gratified to see her eyes widen once again in surprise at his admission. Emboldened by Hal’s casual acceptance of the situation, he has to admit that he is oddly starting to enjoy it.

Turning around to the kettle, Dominic flicks the switch, watching the little blue light come on to indicate that it is heating up.

“Who wants tea?” he asks into the silence, which is starting to feel a little bit stifling.

“Me,” Hal and Natasha say almost simultaneously, and he smiles before retrieving three mugs from the cupboard behind Hal, consciously brushing against the Type 2’s shoulder as he does so.

Natasha gets three tea bags out – Ceylon this time, he is fine with that – and dumps them into the mugs just as the kettle comes to the boil and Dominic turns around again to pour the boiling water in. By the time they take the steaming mugs through to the living room and sit down around the coffee table, the atmosphere appears to have lifted a bit, much to Dominic’s relief.

“So, Hal, how long ago did you meet?” Natasha asks, offering the plate of biscuits.

Hal politely declines the offer, and Dominic remembers what he had told him about not liking food much, particularly after he has just fed. Dominic reaches out and pinches a plain digestive off the plate, dunking it into his tea while his eyes wander to the Type 2 next to him.

A little frown plays on Hal’s face as he thinks about Natasha’s question. “About two months?” It comes out more like a question, but Dominic confirms it with a nod.

“And how was it that you met again?” Why does the girl have to be so nosy?

“It was work-related, like I said,” Dominic says emphatically, and it’s Hal’s turn to nod in confirmation.

“Yes, that’s right. I take it you know all about the hotel suicides?”

Dominic gives him a grateful smile.

Natasha nods. “Seems like I hear about nothing else at the moment, to be honest,” she says, rolling her eyes, and Hal chuckles.

“Yes, Dominic can get rather… invested in a case, can’t he,” he says, his voice gentle. While the statement itself could be taken as a bit of a jibe, something in his voice softens the blow significantly and Dominic has to admit that it makes his stomach flutter pleasantly.

“Urgh, that’s a nice way of putting it,” Natasha groans. “He’s obsessed with his work, honestly. I’m surprised he even noticed you, I always thought he doesn’t really do the people thing.”

“Tasha, you do realise that I am right here, don’t you,” Dominic says indignantly, narrowing his eyes at her and fighting down the blush that is threatening to creep into his cheeks again. “And I do notice people, I just choose not to bother with most of them,” he adds in a mutter.

“You must be special, then,” Natasha concludes, nodding at Hal with raised eyebrows.

 _That’s one way of putting it,_ Dominic thinks, glancing at Hal, and the look Hal is giving him in return makes it clear that he is thinking along the same lines.

They sit in silence for a long moment, Dominic not quite sure what to say in response to her comment, and his eyes wander around the room. From where he is sitting on the three-seater, he has a clear view of the mirror above the mantelpiece, and for some reason, he feels compelled to look into it. It’s almost like his brain keeps trying to remind him of Hal’s nature – as if he’d ever be able to forget. _Special indeed,_ he thinks bitterly.

The real reason he is looking now, however, has less to do with his mind’s own particular way of taunting him and everything to do with the girl sitting across from them in the roomy armchair, one leg folded under her and precariously balancing her mug on one of the arms with a small, crooked smile on her face. The way the armchair is positioned means that she is facing away from the mirror, so as long as she has no reason to turn around in the direction of the fireplace or the kitchen, they should be fairly safe.

“I take that as a ‘yes’,” Natasha’s voice interrupts the silence, and he has to think for a moment to remember the question.

 _Oh. Well, yes._ A small smile spreads on his face without meaning to, and it’s enough to make Natasha roll her eyes at him.

“Are you intending to stay in Cardiff long, Natasha?” Hal speaks up, and Dominic is grateful for the change in topic.

Natasha looks over at Dominic for a moment, obviously thinking about her answer before replying. “I’m not sure yet. Probably not too long. I mean, I obviously can’t stay _here_ for too long.” She pointedly looks at Dominic, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Hal nodding. “It also depends on how the job works out, I guess. Might want to move a bit closer. To Barry, I mean.” Her eyes twinkle as she looks at Hal. “I take you’ll still give me the job?”

“Of course,” Hal answers immediately. “This changes nothing.”

“Except you might want to cut me some slack, because otherwise I will send Dominic after you.”

“I’m not your attack dog, Tasha,” Dominic retorts, eyes narrowed.

Natasha regards him with a calculating look for a moment, then says, “Mmmh, no, you’re not a dog. More of a cougar, really.”

Hal splutters on the mouthful of tea he has just taken.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Natasha,” Dominic says, feigning indignance to hide the very real sense of worry that is settling into his chest. It’s not like the thought has not crossed his mind before, and even though he knows that the age gap is not real, that it is, in fact, very much reversed, he can’t deny a certain amount of insecurity about his own physical attractiveness when it comes to Hal.

Hal, he notices, has stopped coughing and is giving Natasha a conspirational grin. Wonderful.

“What about yourself, Natasha?” Hal is asking her now. “Anyone on the horizon?”

Natasha shakes her head, all of a sudden looking subdued. “No one.” After a short pause, she continues, “Actually, I’ve just come out of a… pretty bad relationship. That’s why I’m here. So no, I’m not really looking for anything like that at the moment.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hal says genuinely, and Natasha smiles.

“No worries. It’s over and done with, I just want to forget about it now.”

Hal nods. “Of course.”

The conversation continues in a considerably tamer way after this, and at one point Dominic feels Hal’s arm snaking around the back of the sofa and his cool fingers surreptitiously brushing against his neck, which makes a pleasant little flutter erupt in his stomach and a small smile form on his lips.

He is happy, he realises. Hal sitting next to him, talking nonsense with Natasha while absentmindedly caressing the back of his neck like it is the most natural thing in the world is making him irrationally, insanely happy.

A little while later, Hal is in the middle of recounting the events surrounding the catastrophic ‘Employee of the Month’ competition at the Barry Grand under the previous manager, which apparently culminated in a food fight between him and Tom McNair, when he is brought up short by Natasha’s stomach growling loudly.

Hal lets out a little surprised laugh and Natasha smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, I skipped lunch because I wanted to be on time for the interview. Guess my body is telling me that it wants something other than biscuits.” She bites her lip, looks between the two of them. “You guys hungry? I could get us some takeaway?”

Hal is starting to shake his head, but Dominic quickly jumps in. “Yes! That’s an excellent idea, Tasha.” He smiles widely at her and she returns his smile likewise.

“Chinese okay?”

“Sweet and sour chicken,” Dominic replies instantaneously. It’s the only dish he really enjoys from the _Golden Dragon_. Everything else is just way too salty for his tastes.

Natasha looks at Hal expectantly, and he just stares back at her, open-mouthed.

“Please, just say something,” Dominic mutters under his breath. “You don’t even have to eat it all.”

Natasha gives him a curious look, but thankfully chooses not to comment.

Hal shakes himself out of his stupor and says, “I’ll have the sweet and sour chicken as well.”

“Cool. I shouldn’t be too long.” She gets up from the armchair and crosses the room to the hallway to pick up her denim jacket, then sticks her head around the door again. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she singsongs, sticks her tongue out and disappears back into the hallway.

Dominic listens to the front door opening and closing and lets out a breath he didn’t realise he has been holding. He slowly turns around to Hal, who is not smiling anymore. The hand that had been stroking Dominic’s neck only moments before is lying in his lap, and his expression is stern.

“Could you please explain what all that was about?” he says, and despite his polite words his tone is biting.

Dominic takes a deep breath. “That night I stayed in Barry…” he starts, then trails off, fixes his eyes on Hal. The Type 2 gives him the tiniest nod, prompting him to continue. “When I got back the next day, she was grilling me about where I’d been. Somehow she seemed to think that I’d spent the night _with_ someone—”

“Well, she wasn’t wrong,” Hal says dryly.

Dominic rolls his eyes. “Yes, but that’s beside the point, Hal. At first, she thought I was with a woman, and it was easy enough for me to deny that.” He pauses again, not entirely sure how to continue.

“But when she mentioned the word ‘boyfriend’, you didn’t find it in you to contradict her,” Hal fills in the blanks, and Dominic nods, swallows.

“But it doesn’t mean anything, Hal, I swear.”

At this, he can see something flit across Hal’s face, some hybrid between exasperation and disappointment, but it’s gone too quickly to really be sure.

“You clearly weren’t entirely averse to the idea,” Hal says, his words carefully measured, and Dominic knows what he is really asking him here. This is the moment, and he finds that he still hasn’t fully made up his mind about how he should reply.

“…Perhaps not,” is what he eventually settles on. It’s vague enough to give him a way out if he feels he needs it, but still not a complete non-commitment.

Hal seems to take his answer for what it is, and nods his head slowly. “In that case, I take it you wouldn’t be entirely averse to me kissing you?”

He looks straight into Dominic’s eyes then, and he hasn’t even noticed before how close they are sitting on the sofa, and suddenly Dominic feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs and his brain is deprived of oxygen.

“Perhaps not,” he breathes.

Hal leans towards him tantalisingly slowly, and Dominic feels his heart hammering in his chest as he closes his eyes and waits for Hal's cool lips to touch his own. The touch is so light at first that he is not even sure whether he really feels it or just wishes he did, and he opens his eyes for the briefest moment. Hal’s face is too close for his eyes to properly focus, and yes, his lips are definitely brushing against his, but it’s different, somehow. Tender, wary, as if Hal is somehow worried about scaring him away. Dominic’s hands come up to lightly brush into Hal’s hair on each side of his face, pulling him closer, and his own lips move against Hal’s more insistently, lingering for a long moment. Hal lets out a little, pleased noise at the movement, and Dominic smiles against his lips. Hal’s breath against his mouth tastes of tea and the faintest hint of copper, and Dominic desperately wants to deepen the kiss to get more of that taste, but to his dismay Hal chooses that moment to pull away and straighten up a bit on the sofa.

“How was that?” he asks, and Dominic is startled to find that all the warmth seems to have left his voice. He obviously hasn’t quite forgiven him yet for how he left him on Saturday, and why should he? Dominic was quite extraordinarily rude and hurtful towards him, and so far has not had an opportunity to even apologise.

Dominic swallows. “It was…” _Amazing. Incredible. Magnificent._ “…nice.”

Hal nods. “Nice enough that you are not just going to run off again any moment with another reminder of how inferior I am to you?” His voice is icy, and Dominic shudders involuntarily.

“Hal, listen, about what I said—”

“Don’t, Dominic,” Hal interrupts him, but he presses on regardless. This is important.

“I just wanted to say I’m sor—”

“I said don’t!” Something dangerous and powerful flashes in Hal’s eyes for a moment, and Dominic hears alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. Hal, apparently realising his momentary loss of control, closes his eyes briefly to collect himself and continues in a calmer voice, “What I mean to say is, I don’t want to hear your apology. Words don’t mean anything if it’s so easy for you to take them back. You are obviously conflicted about this, I understand that. You are going against everything you have ever been taught, everything you have ever believed in.”

Dominic looks down at his hands and nods silently.

“But the point I’m actually trying to make is, I don’t want to hear your apology because you were right.”

Dominic’s eyes snap up at this, and he opens his mouth to protest – how can he possibly even _think_ that? – but Hal holds up a hand to him, stalling him.

“I could have killed people today, Dominic. I very nearly did. Because you were right, I am a monster, and you apologising for what you said doesn’t make it any less true.”

Dominic swallows again. “Hal,” he starts, then pauses. To say that Hal’s admission comes as a surprise is an understatement. This is so completely not what he expected. He is not entirely sure how to phrase what he wants to say, all he knows is that he couldn’t bear the thought of Hal walking out on him now, because of _this_. “I know what you are,” he finally says. “Believe me, I know better than most. And I’ve had a lot of time recently to think about this… our… relationship, whatever it is. And about how I feel about you.” He looks directly into Hal’s eyes then, those beautiful eyes that he fell in love with the very first time he saw them. He understands that now. Not that he is anywhere near ready to share that particular piece of information with the Type 2. He takes a deep breath and continues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m going into this with my eyes wide open, Hal. And in the last three days it has become painfully clear to me that there is no point in denying the truth any longer. I want you in my life. I don’t want to lose you… again.”

The slow smile that appears on Hal’s face at his reply warms his heart and makes his stomach flutter wildly, and he suddenly feels like he needs to touch him again. He brings a hesitant hand up to his face, thumb stroking lightly over the stubble on his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Hal leans in closer to him again, still smiling, and, God, that smile is infectious. When their lips meet this time, it’s a lot less hesitant, and Dominic once again brings the tip of his tongue out to gently swipe against Hal’s plump bottom lip. Hal’s mouth opens at the invitation, and Dominic gets a full taste of that delicious mouth, running his tongue around the soft flesh inside, making teasing little circles around the tip of Hal’s own tongue, and it feels absolutely wonderful. There is a soft whining noise coming from somewhere, and a moment later he realises that it’s been him making that noise, and Hal is chuckling deep in his throat, making the air in his mouth vibrate.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Hal breathes against his mouth, and all he can do is nod and close the gap between their lips once more. His hands have both come up to Hal’s red tie, expertly loosening it and making quick work of the first few buttons underneath when he hears the familiar sound of a key in the front door, and all but jumps away from Hal, hitting his hip hard on the side of the sofa and letting out a very undignified yelp.

He chances a look over at Hal, who is grinning so hard he thinks his face might split in two, and throws him a murderous glare.

“Sorry,” Hal mouths, but still can’t completely rein in the grin on his face when Natasha pops her head around the door, holding a white carrier bag and looking between Dominic’s awkward sitting position and Hal’s apparent state of undress.

“Are you guys all right?” she says, a knowing smile on her face, and Dominic once again feels colour rising into his cheeks.

“Fine,” he chokes out, and just the one word is enough to catapult Hal into a full on fit of giggles on the sofa next to him. Natasha soon joins in and Dominic can’t help the small content smile forming on this face as his gaze wanders between the girl and the Type 2, even if he is once again the butt of the joke. Maybe this strange new life of his could actually turn out all right after all.


	14. Twenty Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Will you stay tonight?' Dominic suddenly asks.
> 
> While the invitation is extremely tempting, Hal knows he can’t accept. He has promised Tom that he would be back to speak to him this evening, and while there is very little he looks forward to less than that conversation, he also knows that he can’t avoid having it.
> 
> With a small shake of his head, he says, “Sorry, I can’t. Tom’s going to stake me if I don’t come home tonight.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for reading!
> 
> Major fluff warning for this chapter - I am not sorry in the slightest.

I say your name  
I say I’m sorry  
I’m the one doing this  
There’s no other way  
It’s nobody’s fault  
No guilty party  
I just got nothing, nothing left to say

\- The National, “Guilty Party”

  
Dominic disappears into the kitchen, presumably to fetch plates and cutlery, which leaves Hal awkwardly hovering in the space between the sofa and the dining table for a moment.

“Need a hand?” he asks Natasha, who has started unpacking the aluminium trays holding their food.

“Thanks,” Natasha says, looking up from the table in his direction and smiling at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Hal makes his way over to the dining table and retrieves a large bag of prawn crackers from the carrier bag. “Yes, thank you,” he says with a smile that he hopes doesn’t look quite as forced as it feels. He likes Natasha well enough, but the memory of his behaviour towards her early today makes him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. “All it took was some good old-fashioned painkillers.”

“Must be some painkiller you’re taking,” Natasha remarks with a small laugh. “You were pretty out of it. Actually, you still seemed that way when you got here,” she adds, thoughtfully. “And then, five minutes later, boom, you’re fine.”

“Maybe that was just the company I was keeping,” Hal says with a wink, just as Dominic emerges from the kitchen with three plates and sets of cutlery.

“Yeah, must have been,” Natasha replies, grinning.

Dominic looks between the two of them with narrowed eyes, and Hal starts to feel a little bit sorry for the man. Natasha has been making fun of him pretty much since he arrived. He wonders idly whether this is their usual dynamic, or if his sudden arrival on Dominic’s doorstep has mixed things up somewhat. He is still not entirely sure of the nature of their relationship, other than that Dominic saved her from a vampire blood bank as a young child. As far as Hal is aware they never lived together for any prolonged periods of time, but equally it doesn’t seem like this is the first time she is staying over at his flat. The familiar way they talk to each other rather implies a fairly close, easy relationship, similar to what he used to have with Pearl, perhaps.

“What?” Dominic asks, startling Hal from his thoughts.

“Nothing,” he says almost automatically.

“Hal was just saying how much he values your company,” Natasha says with a bright grin. “Apparently you made his migraine go away.”

Hal can see confusion flit across Dominic’s features for a second, and he starts to say, “His migraine?” but then realisation dawns behind those blue eyes and he adds, “Yes, well, I do what I can.” He gives Hal a meaningful smile, which he returns.

How does he possibly deserve this amazing human in front of him? He has been with many humans over the years, some while he was clean, some while he was still drinking blood, but he has never come across one that has been so accepting of his nature, that has offered their precious lifeblood to him so freely. He knows that Dominic’s unique position gives him a deep and thorough understanding of vampire physiology and the nature of blood addiction, and that as a result he has formed his own opinion about the pros and cons of going clean versus controlled supply. Whether Hal fully agrees with that opinion is a different matter, but they are where they are now, and he is eternally grateful for the opportunity Dominic is giving him. If only Tom could see it the same way…

“All right then, shall we eat?” Dominic speaks up, and Hal realises that his thoughts have once again run away with him. He nods and takes a seat at the dining table next to Dominic. Natasha sits across from them. They are silent for a moment while all three of them work at spooning food onto their plates from the aluminium trays. The sweet and sour chicken doesn’t smell too appalling, Hal thinks as he spears a small piece of chicken and red pepper onto his fork and takes an experimental sniff.

“What, you never eaten Chinese before?” Natasha asks with a teasing smile.

“Not for a while,” Hal replies truthfully. Most of the food they eat at Honolulu Heights is home-cooked by himself or Tom, and on the rare occasion that they do order takeaway, it is usually either curry or pizza. He pops the fork into his mouth, chews thoughtfully. No, definitely not the worst he’s eaten, although it pales to insignificance in comparison with his earlier—

_No. Not going there. You’re in company._

“It’s not bad though,” he adds, and the smile he receives from Dominic in return makes it so worth it, he actually takes another mouthful straight away just so he can see that smile for a little while longer.

“Oh God, you guys are just too much, honestly,” says Natasha, with that little crooked smile that seems to almost be her default expression.

Feeling like he’s probably embarrassed Dominic enough for one day, Hal turns back to his plate and takes another small mouthful just to occupy himself. He can quickly feel his stomach filling up, and he has barely eaten a quarter of what’s on his plate, but he will do his best, if only to save face in front of Natasha.

By the time he is about halfway through his portion, his stomach feels like a brick, and he puts his fork down, watching the two humans eat for a little while. Natasha has started talking about the one and only time Dominic ever allowed her to visit the Archive, when she was only twelve years old, and how ever since that day she has wanted to join the Men in Grey, but Dominic never allowed it.

“From what I understand, it’s a very dangerous line of work,” Hal says carefully, not wanting to give away that he knows anything more about supernaturals than he strictly has to. As far as she is concerned, he is a hotel manager who happens to have come across some supernatural activity in his hotel.

“Yes, but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? I mean, no offence, but I don’t want to be waiting tables in a hotel for the rest of my life.”

He regards the young woman carefully. She does seem like the type who would flourish in that line of work, to be certain, but he also knows how protective Dominic is of her, and for a good reason, given her past.

“I quite enjoy the peace and quiet myself,” Hal says with a small smile. “I’ve had quite enough excitement in my life.”

Natasha looks at him for a long moment, obviously not quite sure what to make of that statement from a man barely older than herself. “Have you been in Barry long?” she eventually asks. “You don’t sound Welsh.”

“No, I grew up in London,” Hal replies, hoping she is going to leave it there. He has no interest in discussing his childhood with her. Then again, he did rather invite this line of enquiry.

Natasha’s face, however, appears to have lit up at his words, and he remembers that she has spent a large part of her life in London herself. “Cool,” she says. “What part?”

“Southwark.”

Hal feels Dominic’s eyes on him, brow slightly creased, like he is thinking carefully about what he has said, filing it away together with the other bits of information about his childhood that have slipped out unbidden in a moment of lowered guards and impaired judgement.

Natasha grins. “I love South Bank.” _Well, it was very different in my time,_ Hal thinks with no small amount of bitterness, but knows better than to say anything.

“Actually, I haven’t lived in London since my childhood,” he says instead. “I spent quite a few years in Southend before moving to Barry about a year ago.”

Natasha’s mouth opens for another question, no doubt about to ask what reason anyone would have to move from Southend-on-Sea to Barry of all places, but luckily Dominic jumps in before she has a chance to speak.

“As fascinating as I’m sure all of this is, Tasha, I didn’t think we were playing Twenty Questions,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry,” says Natasha, looking slightly sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hal says with a smile, but he reaches his hand out under the table to brush against Dominic’s thigh ever so slightly, to show him that he appreciates the gesture.

It is not long after this that Dominic and Natasha have also both finished their meals, and Dominic gets up to take the dirty plates through to the kitchen. Hal offers to help with the dishes and follows the man into the kitchen. As soon as they are out of sight of Natasha, Hal finds himself with Dominic’s hands firmly on his hips, pushing him against one of the counters, and the smaller man pressing his lips to his own. Hal’s own hands come up, opening the first two buttons on Dominic’s shirt and brushing up the sides of his neck to cradle his head as he returns the kiss, savouring the taste and smell that is so uniquely Dominic. It makes his hunger stir again in the very pit of his stomach, but it’s more of a pleasant tickle now rather than the searing pain he has been used to, and it makes arousal flare in other parts of his body.

He quickly pulls away, bringing a few inches of distance between him and the blond man. Dominic’s blue eyes are questioning and a little bit alarmed.

“Are you okay?”

Hal nods. “Yeah. Just getting a little too excited, especially with Miss Marple there in the next room.” This earns him a little chuckle from Dominic. They stand in silence for a long moment, Dominic’s hands around his hips and his own loosely at the back of Dominic’s neck.

“Will you stay tonight?” Dominic suddenly asks.

While the invitation is extremely tempting, Hal knows he can’t accept. He has promised Tom that he would be back to speak to him this evening, and while there is very little he looks forward to less than that conversation, he also knows that he can’t avoid having it.

With a small shake of his head, he says, “Sorry, I can’t. Tom’s going to stake me if I don’t come home tonight.” It was meant to come out as a light-hearted comment, but actually ends up sounding more like the threat it actually is. Dominic’s brow furrows.

“Stake you?”

Hal lets out a long sigh. “Yes. He… he knows I’m drinking blood again,” he says in a rush, careful to keep his voice down. “He noticed the withdrawal, and he confronted me earlier today. I agreed to talk to him tonight.”

Dominic swallows, hard, and pulls away from him, turning around to face the opposite counter. “I’m sorry, Hal,” he says, regret heavy in his voice, and it’s obvious that he blames himself for what happened, after cutting off his supply so unexpectedly.

“Hey, no, it’s not just about today,” Hal tries to explain, reaching out a hand to Dominic’s shoulder. The man doesn’t shrug him off, but doesn’t turn back around either. “I think he’s been onto me for a while now. Today’s just been the last nail in the coffin, so to speak.”

At this, Dominic finally turns back around and gives him a grave look. “I’m still sorry. It is my fault, all of it. I started it.”

Hal thinks for a moment about what the man has said, and then it dawns on him. The flask. The flask of blood that started it all had been given to him by Dominic, with a promise of continued supply if he agreed to work with him. Long before… everything else.

“That was a long time ago,” Hal says, voicing his thoughts. “You were just doing your job back then.”

“Yes, but – how did you say it? – making apologies for what I did doesn’t make it any less true.”

Hal mulls that over in his mind for a long moment. Dominic does have a point, of course, but the fact is that they are now in the middle of this situation, and they have to deal with it the only way he knows how to. He tells Dominic as much, and when the man opens his mouth again to protest, adds, “Please, Dominic, don’t make this harder. It’s bad enough that I have to go and speak to Tom tonight, I could really do without losing you as well.”

“You won’t,” says Dominic, and leans forward to press another lingering kiss to his lips. An affirmation, a promise. _I won’t abandon you again,_ it says, and Hal believes him.

Hal is about to make his way back into the living room to pick up his jacket and say goodbye to Natasha when Dominic places a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Wait. I’ve got a couple of things I wanted to give you,” he says, and Hal is intrigued as he inches towards the door to the hallway. “Wait here.”

Hal nods, rooted to the spot, and waits a couple of minutes until Dominic comes back in, two objects in his hands. The first, he recognises immediately as a flask, identical to the one he gave him at the hotel, filled to the brim with what he assumes is Dominic’s own blood.

“I don’t want to _ever_ see you like that again. The way you were when you got here today. If, for whatever reason, you can’t get to me, or I’m otherwise unavailable, I want you to have a backup,” he explains, pushing the flask into Hal’s hand. Hal quickly takes it and puts it away in his trouser pocket.

“Understood,” he says with a nod. Then he steals a curious glance at the second item in Dominic’s hand. “What’s that?”

Dominic holds up what Hal recognises as a mobile phone, one like the one Dominic uses himself, with a little miniature keyboard for letters as well as numbers. “I always keep a spare,” he says by way of explanation. “I want to be able to call you without risking getting through to Alex, or Tom. And I want you to be able to reach me wherever you are, whether or not you have a landline phone available to you that’s not at risk of being overheard. You can even text me,” he adds as an afterthought. Hal is obviously not quick enough to hide the sudden surge of panic that flicks across his face at the thought, because the next moment, Dominic lets out a quiet laugh. “Have you ever used text messaging before?”

Hal briefly closes his eyes, swallows his pride, and shakes his head. Dominic gives him a small smile.

“Didn’t think so,” he says, and Hal frowns. Is it really so obvious that he struggles with modern technology? As if hearing his thoughts, Dominic adds, “Well, you didn’t have a mobile of your own, so I figured you’d probably never had the chance to. It’s pretty straightforward, really…”

The next five minutes or so are spent with Dominic going through the various menus and functions of what he calls the Blackberry, which Hal gathers is a particular make of mobile phone.

“A lot of people nowadays prefer iPhones and other touchscreen phones,” he adds, and Hal’s head is reeling with all the new terminology, “but call me old-fashioned, I just got so used to the Blackberry that I find it difficult to imagine using anything else now.”

“I’m sure the Blackberry is perfectly reasonable,” Hal says and accepts the phone from Dominic’s outstretched hand, depositing it into his other pocket.

***

The drive back to Barry is uneventful. After saying goodbye to Natasha in the living room, Hal stole a quick goodbye kiss from Dominic by the front door before making his way downstairs to his car. It is late enough that any potential rush hour traffic has died down, and Hal manages to relax, listening to _The Archers_ on Radio 4, followed by another episode of _Front Row_.

By the time he parks the old Mercedes outside of Honolulu Heights, he has almost forgotten the reason he is here rather than comfortably sitting on Dominic’s sofa with his human snuggled up to him and the inquisitive, vivacious young woman he is starting to like more and more sitting across and firing questions at them.

Then the reality of the situation is crashing back to him. Tom knows about his blood-drinking, and he is going to demand answers. Hal doesn’t know the first thing to say to his friend in his defence, all he does know is that under no circumstances will he incriminate Dominic in any way. Despite what the man said, Hal does not hold him responsible for what happened. He wasn’t there, forcing Hal to drink the blood in the flask. That was all him, and he will have to face up to whatever it is his friend is going to throw at him.

His steps are heavy as he makes his way up the path to the front door, his hand reluctant as he puts the key into the lock. He half expects Tom to open the door for him, to sit ready and waiting in the living room, anticipating his arrival. But the house is quiet when he walks in, and for one blissful moment Hal thinks Tom has forgotten about their agreement, that he has perhaps gone out for the evening, leaving Hal to maybe have time for a good, thorough workout and shower before bed.

No such luck, though, of course. As soon as he walks into the living room and puts his keys down on the bar, Tom walks through the kitchen door, a sour expression on his face.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the sofa facing the fireplace, while taking a seat on the beige corner sofa himself. Hal is grateful for the distance this puts between them, but is also very much aware of the icy glare and the stake Tom is unsuccessfully trying to hide in his pocket. “Talk,” he says, not looking at Hal directly.

Hal looks around him. “Where’s Alex?” he asks, stalling for time. Tom wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t sure the ghost wasn’t going to interrupt them any time soon.

“Gone to Scotland,” he says curtly, and Hal nods.

“Of course.”

“Are ya goin’ to talk, Hal, or what?” Tom snaps, and Hal knows he is out of time.

Looking carefully up at his friend, he says, “What do you want to know?”

“Why you’re being such a fucking dickhead, to start with. I thought we had an agreement, Hal. You swore on Eve’s bib and all.” His voice is full of anger and resentment.

Hal swallows. “I know. It was… an error of judgement on my part,” he says, and that’s probably the closest to the truth he will ever get with this.

“What d’you mean?”

“I came across some blood, a little while back,” he starts.

“How?”

 _Remember, no incriminating Dominic._ “A… vampire gave it to me.”

Tom frowns. “I thought you said you hadn’t gone and talked to no vampires since you’ve gone clean?”

A small sigh escapes Hal’s lips. Why is it that he permanently feels he has to lie just to save his friendships? “It was before then.” There is a short pause. He doesn’t want to say this, he really doesn’t. He owes it to the memory of his friend. _And he was more than that to you, really, wasn’t he?_ But it’s either him or Dominic, and he knows who he has to choose, now. “Cutler must have slipped it to me, at the club.”

“Huh,” says Tom, and his voice has lost some of its edge, sounding more thoughtful than angry now. “That sounds about right.”

Hal tries not to look too relieved as he says, “Yeah. Just the kind of thing he would have done. Anyway, I found it in my pocket, after we got back to the house, and I hid it.”

“Hid it where, Hal?” Tom shoots back immediately. “Me and Alex searched the whole house after we tied ya up, remember? Didn’t find nowt.”

Truth be told, Hal doesn’t remember that particular piece of information. His memory of the time in the chair is limited, hazy and patchy. He knows that the other one took over for a fair stretch of time during his detox, and he tries to remember as little as possible about those times.

“Hal?” Tom’s voice is insistent, and he realises that he hasn’t yet answered his friend’s question.

“I buried it,” he says quickly, thinking on his feet. “In the garden.” He meets the werewolf’s eyes, then, Tom’s dark and stormy, his own troubled and apologetic. “I dug it back up a couple of weeks ago, after… after Bobby’s death.”

He watches a flicker of sadness pass across Tom’s face at the mention of the other werewolf. “You should’ve come to us.” His voice has truly lost its edge now, and he just sounds tired and defeated.

Hal sighs. “Yes, Tom, I should have. And that was my error of judgement. It was a moment of weakness, I felt tired and sad and angry about everything that had happened, and I thought that I could make it better. I thought that if I could just have the one drink and then… let it go again, that it would be okay. But of course it doesn’t work like that.” His voice sounds bitter by the end, and he realises with a start that none of what he has just said has in actual fact been a lie. The realisation brings with it a deep sense of shame at his own weakness, and he drops his eyes, wanting nothing more than to be far away from here, back in the flat above the barber shop with Leo and Pearl, and just forget about all of this.

Tom watches him closely for a long moment. Hal doesn’t look back up but can feel his friend’s eyes on him nonetheless. After what seems like an eternity, Tom opens his mouth to speak again. “You said you got a source, where you can get the blood, safe like, without hurtin’ no one.”

It’s not exactly a question, but Hal nods his head all the same. “Yes.”

“How’s it work?”

“There are… donors,” Hal says, and this bit he thought up in advance in between listening to Mark Lawson interviewing some artist he didn't know on his half hour drive back from Cardiff. “Humans who willingly donate their blood for vampires to buy. There are places like that all over the country, and I happened to come across one in Cardiff.” It is only half a lie, at least. Those places did exist, back in the 1800s, but as far as he knows, they all disappeared a long time ago. _Probably taken over by the Department of Domestic Defence,_ he thinks. Oh, the irony.

“That’s where you went tonight.”

Hal nods, still not looking at Tom. “Yes.”

There is another long pause after this, in which Tom apparently takes in all this new information. “So, are ya goin’ to turn into Bad Hal, then?” he finally asks, and Hal’s eyes snap up at the unexpected question.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, before his brain has fully caught up.

Tom snorts. “Well, that’s what happens when you go back on the blood, innit, Hal? That’s what happened last time, and believe me, I remember every minute of it. You said if you ever drink blood again, that I should stake ya, ‘cause it’d mean you’d turn back into Bad Hal. Are ya tellin’ me that was all a lie, then?”

“No,” says Hal emphatically. Then, quieter, he adds, “No, Tom, I’m not just going to turn into _him_ again. Not like this. I’m only taking just enough to quell the hunger, but never enough to properly… lose control. I can’t ever allow myself that.”

“Is it safe, though?” Tom asks, eyebrows drawn together, and Hal understands that his answer to this question is more of a decider of what’s going to happen than anything else he has said tonight.

“It’s as safe as it gets,” he says truthfully, hoping the answer is good enough for his friend.

“And it’s safe for the donors?” Tom asks, then. Another unexpected question, and one that causes a small twinge of unease and fear in Hal’s gut. Is it safe, what they do? Is he putting Dominic at risk?

“It’s a consensual agreement,” he finally replies, and he knows it’s a cop-out, but it’s the best he can come up with. “They are aware of the risks.”

***

After Hal left, Dominic busied himself in the kitchen for a long while, doing the dishes and putting away the leftovers. With a final sweep across the granite work surface, he decides that the job is done, and walks through the door to re-join Natasha in the living room.

The girl has taken up her usual space on the sofa, facing the TV, which is showing some silly romantic comedy, by the looks of it. He will never understand why she enjoys films like this, all ‘he loves her’ and ‘she loves him’ and ‘something awkward/embarrassing/funny happens’ and ‘they find each other in the end’. Real life is rarely like that, is it? Although Dominic has to admit that, thinking back over the last few weeks, his life seems to pretty much have played out along the same vein. Minus the funny bits.

“Are you gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna sit down and join me?” Natasha calls over from the sofa, that infuriating small smile back on her lips.

“What are you watching?” Dominic asks, feigning interest, and sits down on the other end of the sofa, avoiding her sprawled out legs.

“It’s called ‘Serendipity’,” Natasha explains. “I picked up the DVD dead cheap in HMV the other day. Unless you’d rather watch ‘Breaking Dawn, Part 2’,” she adds with a crooked grin.

Dominic snorts. “There is no way in hell I would ever be caught watching that nonsense, Natasha. Their depiction of Type 2s is—”

“All right, all right, calm down. Jesus. Those films really do get you riled up, don’t they?” Natasha says, giggling.

“The films and the books, Tasha. I just think it is entirely irresponsible to market something as detestable as vampirism as something desirable or harmless,” he says emphatically, and she nods.

“I agree with you, actually, believe it or not,” she says, and Dominic smiles. He has taught her well. Then he thinks of Hal and the smile dies on his lips. That is until Natasha adds, “That Edward guy is kinda hot though, isn’t he?” and Dominic whips his head around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Did you really just ask me that, Tasha?”

“Well, yeah, I thought you’d probably have an opinion, seeing as you’re—”

He doesn’t, however, find out exactly what it is that she thinks he is, as she trails off suddenly and stares back at him, eyes fixed on a point on his neck.

“What’s that?” she asks, and he feels a growing sense of horror in his gut as he realises that his open shirt collar is doing absolutely nothing to hide the dressing on the side of his neck.

Dominic cringes inwardly at his own stupidity. How could he let his guard down so much? What can he possibly say to explain the injury to her? His mind goes into overdrive as he runs through all possible scenarios of suffering a traumatic injury to the side of the neck, but he comes up painfully short. Except…

The solution hits him like a brick. Of course. It’s so simple, really.

He takes a deep breath and says, “Type 2.”

Natasha’s eyes grow huge. “You were bitten?”

Dominic nods. “One of the risks of the job. It happens every now and then. Nothing to worry about.” He gives her his best reassuring smile.

Natasha, apparently, is not reassured. “You’re lucky to be alive! When did this happen?”

“This afternoon, while you were in Barry,” Dominic says. “I was tipped off about a vampires’ lair not too far from here by one of my ex-colleagues, thought it would be worth looking into—”

“By yourself?” Natasha raises an accusing eyebrow at him, and Dominic is starting to second-guess his ‘explanation’. He takes another deep breath, trying to calm her as much as himself.

“Yes, Tasha. By myself. But you have to understand, I’ve done this hundreds of times before. There was never any real danger—”

“Clearly.” Her tone is biting, and he reaches a placating hand out, briefly touches her shoulder. She looks up at him and some of the venom leaves her voice when she adds, “I’m sure Hal wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger like that.”

 _If only you knew, Tasha._ “Hal knows what I do, Tasha. He’s okay with it.”

“Does he know about _this_?” She points at his neck.

“Yes, he does.”

There is a short pause, in which she eyes him carefully, a small frown playing on her face.

“Did you ever get bitten before?” she asks eventually.

“A few times,” he replies, truthfully. _But only recently._ It never really occurred to him, that in twenty years on the job, he had not been bitten by a single Type 2. Until Hal.

“I had no idea.”

There is another silence that follows her statement, but it’s not uncomfortable. Then, like an afterthought, she adds, “Did it hurt?”

Dominic realises that the reason she is asking is not purely to do with his own wellbeing. It is just as much to do with her mother’s death at the hands of a Type 2 all those years ago. She wants to know if she would have suffered.

Maybe he should lie, Dominic thinks, make her believe that her mother’s death was quick and painless. But there are already too many lies between them, and she is strong enough to handle the truth.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, it hurts.” It does, every time. His strange, inexplicable addiction to it is not something he thinks he will ever fully understand.

“Can I see?” she asks and looks at him with big eyes.

He looks back at her for a moment, considering. Does he really want to share this with her, his shameful secret? Does he even really have a choice?

“Of course,” he hears himself say, and his hand comes up to pull away the dressing from his skin. Natasha leans in and brings up a hand to carefully touch the slightly tender skin around the actual bite marks, which are crusty with a deep red scab. An involuntary shiver runs through him at her touch, and she quickly pulls her hand away.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“A little,” he lies. In actual fact, it had felt quite nice, but he knows it wouldn’t do anyone any favours to tell her that.

“Looks nasty,” Natasha says, frowning. “How did you fight him off?”

Dominic clears his throat. He wishes she would stop asking questions, just so he could stop lying to her. “Staked him.”

Natasha bites her lip, then nods. “Good riddance.”

They turn back to the TV, where the guy and the girl appear to be in deep conversation about something. And that is the end of that.

***

Lying in bed that night, Dominic finds that everything that happened in this one eventful day is circling around in his head and making it impossible to get to sleep. Is Hal actually his _boyfriend_ now? He still finds it silly to use that word, particularly when applied to a five hundred year old Type 2, but he realises that his terminology in that department is actually rather lacking. The important thing, Dominic decides, is what it stands for. He has all but confessed to Hal that he is developing feelings for him, that he wants to be with him, in a relationship. And it very much seems like that’s what Hal wants, as well, judging by the bright, beautiful smile on his face when he said it.

Thinking of Hal, he suddenly remembers the uncomfortable conversation Hal was going to have with his housemate. He doesn’t know McNair all that well, but what little he does know doesn’t exactly fill him with confidence regarding the situation they have landed themselves in. Even though the Type 3 seems to have given up vampire hunting in favour of more mundane areas of employment after the death of his father, he still doesn’t appear to be entirely sympathetic towards most Type 2s, and from Dominic’s understanding he only accepts Hal because he has sworn off blood and decided to go clean. This new turn of events will certainly test their friendship.

A sudden wave of worry for his Type 2 comes over Dominic, and he reaches out a hand to grab his phone off the bedside table. Bringing up his text messages, he quickly types out a new message and hits send.

_**I hope it went okay with Tom earlier.** _

He looks at the screen for a long moment, then lies down on his side and places the phone down on the mattress next to him. It only takes Hal a couple of minutes to reply.

**As okay as it ever could have gone. He didn’t stake me.**

Dominic chuckles lightly at the reply, a small smile forming on his lips as he types out his reply.

**_That’s a relief. I take it he hasn’t thrown you out or tied you to a chair either?_ **

This time, Hal’s reply comes almost immediately. Dominic marvels at how quickly Hal has taken to this new skill.

**No. I didn’t mention you, by the way. I didn’t think that would be wise.**

Dominic silently agrees with him, and is rather relieved that he doesn’t have to worry about an angry Type 3 turning up on his doorstep any time soon. He writes out,

**_Thank you._ **

Then, looking at the message for a long moment, decides to add a ‘xx’ at the end and hits send before he can change his mind. There is a slightly longer pause before Hal replies.

**What does xx mean?**

Dominic lets out a small laugh, remembering that the Type 2 is very new to this kind of communication. He wouldn’t have known, either, had it not been for Natasha’s insistence to sign every text she sends him with kisses. He has always found it a rather juvenile concept, to be honest. But when it comes to Hal, a lot of the usual rules just don’t seem to apply.

_**‘x’ is a symbol for a kiss, Hal.** _

Spelling it out like that actually makes Dominic feel a little bit silly for starting this in the first place. It really _is_ a bit juvenile, isn’t it? Hal’s reply, however, makes an enormous smile break out on his face.

**In that case, you’re welcome xx**

Dominic just lies there looking at the text for a long moment, smiling, when his phone vibrates in his hand again.

**I wish I could have stayed tonight xx**

**_Me too, Hal xx_ **

And he really means it.


	15. Agent Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Natasha walks through the door of the hotel with a small bit of trepidation and a fair amount of anticipation inside of her. It’s her first day of work as an undercover agent for Dominic, and even though he is now very much operating outside of his official mandate, it doesn’t make the opportunity any less exciting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit different, in that it is told entirely from Natasha's perspective. I really like her character and had a great time writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it as well!

Open on all channels  
Ready to receive  
And we're not at the mercy  
Of your shimmers or spells  
Your shimmers or spells

\- Radiohead, “The Numbers”

  
Natasha walks through the door of the hotel with a small bit of trepidation and a fair amount of anticipation inside of her. It’s her first day of work as an undercover agent for Dominic, and even though he is now very much operating outside of his official mandate, it doesn’t make the opportunity any less exciting. She has wanted this for _years,_ and all she ever got from him was a stern look and a ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Tasha,’ as if the very idea was so ludicrous that it didn’t bear thinking about. She wonders what has changed his mind, whether it is merely a matter of lack of resources after his department’s closure, or if he has really changed his opinion of her. Whatever it is, she is certainly grateful for the opportunity.

“Natasha, hi,” says the young man at the reception desk, who she met briefly on Tuesday before speaking to Hal in his office. His name tag reads ‘Tom, Assistant Manager’.

“Hi, Tom, nice to see you again.” She flashes him a bright smile, and watches Tom smiling shyly back at her.

“And you. I mean, well done in the interview and that.” He is clearly nervous, and Natasha can’t help but find it endearing.

“Thanks,” she says, still smiling. “Is Hal around?” Then, realising her mistake, she quickly adds, “I mean, Mr Yorke? He told me to meet him when I arrived.”

A dark look passes over Tom’s face briefly, and Natasha wonders what that could be about, but then he catches himself and replies, “I’m sure he won’t mind ya callin’ him Hal. Everyone else does.” She keeps looking at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he finally seems to realise that he hasn’t actually answered her question yet, he quickly adds, “He’s in his office, I think.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Natasha says, throwing him another bright smile, and she swears she can see his ears turn red. God, he’s cute.

She makes her way through the dining room and into the staff corridor, coming to a stop outside the door to the manager’s office. It’s a lot busier today than it was two days ago, with a flurry of staff rushing around to serve the hotel guests their breakfasts. She stands, watching a young woman in a red staff uniform push a trolley down the corridor for a moment, when she hears Hal’s voice from inside the room.

“I’m still not convinced this is a good idea, Alex. She’s only a girl, really. What if she gets hurt?”

Natasha has no idea who he is talking to, but she has a sneaking suspicion that he is speaking _about_ her, and she doesn’t like it. She knocks loudly on the door, and barely waits for his muffled, “Come in” before entering the room.

Looking around the office, she takes in Hal sitting behind his desk with his forearms resting on the arm rests and his fingers tapping against each other in a complicated pattern. He did this on Tuesday, as well, Natasha remembers. Must be a nervous habit.

There is a sudden whoosh of air slightly to her left, almost like someone has opened a window. Her eyes quickly sweep across the room, but there are no other people in here and the only window is firmly shut. How strange.

“Ah, Natasha, please come in,” Hal says with a small smile.

“Who were you talking to?” Natasha blurts out, closing the door and slowly walking over to the desk.

A frown flits across Hal’s face for a moment, before he smiles again, a little more forced this time, and says, “I was talking to my friend Alex. On the phone.” He gestures to the Blackberry on the desk. Same model as Dominic’s, she notices, and smiles.

“Ah, okay. Sorry, it’s none of my business, really,” she says, but can’t help but wonder about what he said. Did she misunderstand, and they weren’t talking about her at all? She decides to let it go for now. “Right then, I’m reporting for duty, I guess,” she says with a smile.

“So I see,” replies Hal, and returns her smile. He gets up and walks over to a filing cabinet at the back of the room, opening it and retrieving a plastic box. As he places it down on the desk, Natasha notices that it has ‘Property of the Department of Domestic Defence’ written on it. “This,” Hal says, gesturing to the box, “is the surveillance equipment Dominic has given us.”

She watches as he opens the lid of the box and takes out four small, battery operated cameras and a device that looks a little like a DVD player.

“We need you to install these,” he points at the cameras, “in Captain Hatch’s room when he is downstairs in the dining room, having his lunch. Make sure that they are hidden from view, we absolutely cannot take the risk of him finding even a single one of them.” He gives her a significant look, and she nods, showing him she has understood. “Okay,” he continues, and points to the larger device. “This is the hard drive. It is going to record all four cameras, twenty-four hours a day. We will take this back to Honolulu Heights—”

She shoots him a questioning look. It’s the second time she has come across that name. The first was on Dominic’s phone in his study when he was in his sulking mood.

“It’s where I live. It’s an old Bed & Breakfast called ‘Honolulu Heights’,” Hal explains.

“You live in a Bed & Breakfast? On your own?” She lifts an eyebrow at him.

Hal sighs. “No, not on my own. I share it with a couple of friends. Tom, who I believe you’ve met, and Alex.”

“Who you were talking to on the phone,” Natasha confirms. Hal nods. “Sounds intriguing,” Natasha continues, and after a moment, adds, “Got a spare room?”

Hal gives a small laugh at that. “We do, actually,” he says, but she’s not sure how serious he is about that. Surely he is not offering a room to someone he has only just met two days ago?

 _But maybe he wants to get you out of Dominic’s flat?_  A devious voice in her mind pipes up.

“I’ll think about it,” says Natasha with a smirk. “But anyway, back to the job. So you’re going to set the hard drive up at your house?”

“Yes,” Hal confirms. “It’s safer than keeping it in the hotel. If Hatch really is a supernatural, we don’t want to take any chances of him finding it.”

Natasha bites her lip. “You seem to know an awful lot about supernaturals. For a hotel manager.”

“Call it a… hobby of mine,” replies Hal.

“I’m starting to see why Dominic likes you,” she says with a crooked smile.

“Starting to?” retorts Hal, and they share a laugh.

“I’m really glad he found you,” Natasha says after a moment, her face serious again. “I was getting worried about him after his department closed. Even before then, to be honest. He was always so… alone.” She stops, realising that she might be getting into territory which is too personal to discuss with a man she has only just met.

Hal’s eyebrows draw together. “So he’s really never had anyone else? As far as you know?”

She bites her lip, shakes her head. “No.”

Hal looks thoughtful for a moment. When he doesn’t say anything else, she speaks up again.

“He really cares about you,” she says, and Hal gives her a small smile. “Honestly. The way he was with you on Tuesday… I’ve never seen him like that before. He used to always be so… detached, so cold. With you, it seems like he is coming to life.” She stops herself once more, realising that she is most definitely oversharing now. “God, sorry, got carried away there.”

“No, don’t apologise,” says Hal, a soft smile on his face. “I’m glad to hear it. I… really care about him too.”

A silence follows his admission, and Natasha notices that Hal appears to be lost in his own thoughts for a long moment, staring off into space. As if he is aware of her eyes on him, though, he suddenly looks up, fixing his eyes on her and giving a brisk nod.

“Right,” Hal says and walks over to a cupboard at the back of the office, pulling out a maroon uniform. “This is yours. Lockers are the last door on the left at the end of the corridor, opposite the staff toilets. When you’re ready, you can speak to Tom at reception, he will show you around and explain everything you’ll be expected to do. At lunch time, come back here and I will give you the cameras to install as soon as Captain Hatch has taken his table in the dining room.”

“Sounds straightforward enough,” says Natasha. She takes the uniform from him and turns towards the door, then, almost like an afterthought, she adds, “Thanks, boss.”

He barks out a small laugh. “Welcome to the team, Natasha Miles.”

***

The rest of Natasha’s morning goes by in a blur. Tom is pleasant enough company, she has to admit while he is showing her around the hotel and explaining the ins and outs of the hotel trade to her. He’s definitely done that bit before, she thinks, as he patiently explains the process of stripping and making a bed, but the shy glances he throws her in between, when he thinks she is not looking, certainly make the whole process a lot more interesting.

“Right, that’s that,” Tom says now, smoothing down the covers at the foot end of the bed. “Any questions?”

“So you and Hal live together?” she blurts out, realising too late that that is probably not the kind of question he had in mind.

Tom’s eyebrows draw together. “Yeah,” he says. “He told you about that?”

Natasha nods. “He mentioned it when he explained about the surveillance equipment. Said he’d set it up at your home, instead of here.”

“Right,” says Tom. “Yeah, that’s the plan. You ready to put the cameras up then?”

Natasha nods and bites her lip. She still doesn’t completely understand why one of them could not have done it, if they’re obviously all in on the plan anyway. She asks Tom as much, but all she gets is a shrug.

“Dunno mate. It was Hal and Mr Rook comin’ up with the plan, far as I know.” He is silent for a moment, giving Natasha a calculating look. “So you’re, like, friends with Mr Rook or summat?”

From the way Tom is speaking about him, it seems like he and Dominic are not on the best of terms, and Natasha wonders what the story is behind this. She thinks better of asking him directly though, and replies, “Yeah, I guess you could say that. He… saved my life, when I was little. Ever since then, he’s been like… I don’t know…” She trails off. It’s impossible to put her and Dominic’s relationship into words.

“A father?” Tom suggests. Natasha frowns slightly.

“No,” she says with a small smile. “He’s not _that_ old. More like a big brother, maybe.” _Yeah, a big brother that you’ve had the hots for until fairly recently. That’s an image you really want to cultivate._

“Huh. I wouldn’t know ‘bout that,” says Tom quietly. “Never had no brothers or sisters meself.”

“You an only child then?” Natasha asks as they are making their way down the corridor, Tom pushing the trolley in front of him.

“Yeah. Only ever been me and me dad.” A dark look comes across Tom’s face at the mention of his father.

“Is your dad—” she begins to ask, but he interrupts her.

“He’s dead,” he says darkly. “’S just me now. Well, me and Hal and Alex.”

“That’s me, as well,” Natasha replied with a small smile. “My mum died when I was seven. I grew up in foster families, but really it’s only ever been me and Dominic since then.”

“Dominic?”

“Mr Rook,” she clarifies, and there is that dark look again on his face. This time, she can’t help but ask, “You don’t like him very much, do you?”

“It’s more that he don’t like me,” Tom says, and Natasha frowns.

“Why do you think that?”

Tom shrugs. “Just the way he looks at me, sometimes, the way he talks. And I get it, he don’t really like people like me, thinks we’re… never mind.”

Natasha’s frown intensifies. What does he mean, ‘people like him’? It doesn’t seem like Dominic to discriminate against people just because of – what? Their social standing? Educational background? The only reason Dominic would have to dislike someone he barely knows would be— but no. That’s impossible.

“Him and Hal seem to get on all right, though,” Tom says now, and Natasha bites her lip. Dominic has warned her not to mention their relationship to anyone, and from the sound of it even Hal’s housemate is unaware of it. This is all very odd.

“Yeah,” she says, noncommittally. “Seems like they do.”

***

Natasha feels her hackles rise as soon as she sets foot in Captain Hatch’s room. The room looks like it is in dire need of refurbishment, with one of the walls in particular looking like it desperately needs a new layer of paint or wallpaper. The furniture is old and worn, and the whole room has a quality of having been well lived in for a long time. From what little Natasha knows of Captain Hatch, he has lived at the hotel since at least the 1980s, possibly longer.

She looks around the room carefully, trying to determine good places for the surveillance cameras to be placed. This is very important work, she recognises that, and she is determined to prove to Dominic that he made the right decision in trusting her with it.

There is an old looking book rack on the dresser next to the door that looks like it hasn’t been moved for a long time, judging by the layer of dust accumulating underneath it. Natasha carefully attaches the first camera to the underside of the rack, facing into the main body of the room. Next, her eyes fall onto the old-fashioned tube TV in the corner of the room. It would be risky, she realises, to install a camera on an object that is pretty much _made_ to be looked at. But if she hides it away skilfully enough… she attaches the camera to the narrow gap between the underside of the TV and the table, careful to hide away the small red light that indicates the camera is on under the plastic rim of the TV. Yes. Good work.

Natasha’s eyes roam around the room, taking in the old mirror wardrobe. No. Too risky. Both the Captain and the hotel staff will use the wardrobe regularly, too much chance of something becoming dislodged. Next to the wardrobe is a small table with a tea-making station – probably a high traffic area. Out of the question. She looks over at the bed and the two bedside tables either side, both of which are holding a multitude of items and look like they are in regular use by the Captain. Definitely out of the question as well.

There. A large floor lamp, next to the window. Natasha quickly walks over and easily attaches one of the cameras to the lamp, facing into the room so it captures the bed and wardrobe. There is really only one corner now that is not covered by a camera. Natasha takes one last look around the room and notices an armchair sitting in a secluded corner at the back of the room. It’s not an ideal object to attach a camera too, but then again, the Captain is in a wheelchair, so is unlikely to use the armchair himself, and from the reports she has had on the man from Dominic and Hal, he doesn’t really ever have visitors. Natasha takes the chance and pushes the camera into the gap between seat and back rest at the back of the armchair, facing into the room, towards the door. This way, they should have an almost three sixty view of the room.

Pleased with her achievement, Natasha straightens up and turns around, just to come face to face with Captain Hatch.

“Good to see that they have finally been able to find a replacement for poor Sophie,” the old man says with a smile that sends a shiver down her spine.

Natasha takes a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. “Yes. Erm. My name is Natasha,” she manages to get out, then adds, “Sir.”

“Natasha, huh. Care to tell me what you were doing back there?”

Natasha’s heart plummets into her gut. If he goes to investigate the chair… “I dropped something earlier, when I was dusting in here,” she lies. “Just went to see if I could find it.”

“Oh no,” Captain Hatch says mournfully. “I hope you’ve been able to find what you were looking for?”

“Yes, I have, actually,” Natasha says quickly, nodding emphatically. She really wants to get out of here. Right. Now.

"Good, good,” Captain Hatch says, mirroring her own nod.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Natasha asks with a forced smile.

“No, no, you run along, girl. I’m fine.” Captain Hatch gives her another one of his toenail-curling smiles, and Natasha all but flees from the room.

Running down the corridor, she almost crashes straight into Tom, who holds his arms out to catch her.

“Whoa, what happened?”

Natasha catches her breath for a moment before shaking her head once and replying, “Not here. Let’s go to Hal’s office.” And with that she sets off along the corridor, down the stairs, towards the manager’s office.

Once inside and with the door securely closed behind them, Natasha turns around to face Tom again.

“Hatch caught me. While I was installing the last camera.”

“Bollocks,” Tom exclaims. “Did he actually see anything?”

Natasha shrugs. “I’m not sure. He was behind me when I turned around, but I don’t know how long he was standing there. I didn’t hear him come in.”

Tom looks back at her with a troubled expression on his face. “If he finds even a single one of them cameras—”

“I know,” Natasha snaps. “I thought I had more time! Hal told me he normally takes at least half an hour over his lunch. It’s almost like he _knew_ we were up to something.”

Tom raises his eyebrows. “Well, what if he does? I mean, if he really is a demon and that, dunno what he’d be able to do, do we?”

Natasha sighs. “Guess you’re right,” she concedes. “Maybe we should call Hal.”

Tom frowns for a moment, then says, “Nah. We can do one better than that.” At Natasha’s questioning look, he adds, “We can go see Hal.”

***

Honolulu Heights is nothing like what Natasha expected Hal Yorke’s home to look like. The only other times she has seen the man has been either at the hotel, or in Dominic’s flat, and each time he looked very formal in his black suit and red tie. Seeing him now, standing in front of a giant Hawaiian mural in a tight black polo shirt and jeans, she can’t suppress a small laugh, despite the serious reason for her visit.

Hal turns around at the sound, raising his eyebrows at her. “Natasha. I didn’t expect you to move in so quickly,” he says dryly, but at noticing the serious expression on Tom’s face next to her, he sobers up immediately. “Is something wrong?”

Natasha bites her lip. She doesn’t want to admit that something went wrong on her _first job,_ for God’s sake, but she also knows that she will have to tell Hal. And better Hal than Dominic. She takes a deep breath, aware of both Tom’s and Hal’s eyes on her, and says, “I think Hatch saw me.”

She takes a careful look at Hal, but instead of looking back at her he has turned back towards the small table in front of the mural, where she can see he has set up the surveillance equipment, and is muttering something that very much sounds like, “Not helping, Alex.” Natasha looks back around the room, but apart from Hal, Tom and herself, there is definitely no one else there.

“What did you say?” she asks, thinking she may have misheard him.

“What? Nothing, I didn’t say anything. How much do you think he saw?” There is definitely a note of something in Hal’s voice that tells her he is avoiding answering her question, and she has had enough of not being taken seriously.

In a split second decision, she shakes her head and says, “No. First you tell me what the hell is going on here. I know you were talking to your ‘friend Alex’ just now, just like you were before I came into the office earlier today. Thing is, you’re definitely not on the phone now, and I’m not stupid. I can tell when people are blatantly lying to me. There’s something weird going on here, and I want to know what it is if you want me to continue working with you on this. We need to be able to trust each other.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Tom nodding next to her. “She’s right Hal. Maybe we should tell—”

“No!” Hal exclaims, then, seeing Natasha’s raised eyebrows, adds, “I mean, yes, of course we should tell you the truth, but perhaps we should all, I don’t know, sit down first?” He gestures over to one of the mismatched sofas, and Natasha reluctantly takes a seat. If this is what it takes to get the two men to talk to her, so be it. Hal takes a seat across from her on the other sofa, and Tom walks around both of them to sit in the armchair.

“Right,” Tom says. “Where do we start?”

“Perhaps,” Hal responds, turning towards her, “I should start by apologising to you. It was not my intention to wilfully keep anything from you, it was more that the kind of information we are about to share is… let’s say strictly need to know only.”

Natasha’s eyebrows rise. “Now you’ve got me interested.”

Hal takes a deep breath before he continues. “Since it’s the first question you asked, maybe the first thing we should explain to you is about Alex. You remember I said that Alex lives with Tom and myself, here at the house.” At Natasha’s nod he resumes, “The reason you aren’t able to either see or hear Alex is because she is a ghost.”

…A what? The first thought that comes into Natasha’s mind is, _Does Dominic know about this?_

“Yes, he does,” says Hal, and it’s only then she realises that she asked the question out loud. “I’m sure the next question you are going to ask is, how are Tom and I able to communicate with Alex. Am I correct?”

Natasha gives a small nod. Hal briefly looks over at Tom, who also nods, and Hal opens his mouth to speak again.

“Tom is able to see and hear Alex because he is a werewolf,” he says slowly, and Natasha’s eyes narrow. So that’s what he meant when he said that Dominic doesn’t like him. It’s suddenly all starting to make sense. She looks over at the young man in the armchair across from her, and bites her lip. The only other werewolf she has ever come across was Bobby at the Archive, that time that Dominic finally gave in to her nagging and gave her the grand tour of the facility. She never really understood the need to keep Bobby locked up like that for the twenty-nine or thirty days of the month when he isn’t a raging monster, but Dominic and the rest of the Men in Grey seemed convinced that it was ‘for his own good’. To her, he just seemed like a nice, harmless bloke. She briefly wonders what became of Bobby after the Archive closed and she makes a mental note to ask Dominic about it when she gets home. It certainly won’t be the only topic of conversation, with the way things are going here.

“I hope it don’t bother you,” Tom says, startling her from her wandering thoughts.

Natasha quickly shakes her head. “Of course not. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not what I was expecting, but… no. Doesn’t bother me.” She gives him a small smile, which he returns with a much brighter one.

Natasha looks over at Hal. Dominic’s boyfriend Hal. Dominic’s _very human_ boyfriend Hal.

“What about you?” she asks.

“He’s a—”

“—psychic,” Hal jumps in before Tom can even finish his sentence. “I’m a psychic. I… am able to communicate with ghosts.” He looks at her with big, imploring eyes.

“So when I came into the office earlier, there was actually a ghost in there?” Natasha asks, and Hal nods.

“I’m sorry. She left the room as soon as you arrived,” he says, and Natasha remembers the strange whoosh of air she felt next to her in the room.

“And she’s here in the room now?” she asks, looking around as if knowing the ghost is there will suddenly make her visible.

Hal nods and gestures to the sofa next to Natasha. “She’s sitting right there.”

Natasha can’t help but jump to the side slightly, but then realises how silly she is being and mutters an apology. Her eyes come back up to Hal. “Does Dominic know you’re a… psychic?” Her tone is vaguely accusatory, and she is surprised when Hal, once again, nods his head.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, he is one as well,” he adds with a small smile.

Natasha isn’t sure how much more of this ridiculous new information she can take in. “Dominic. Is a psychic.” Her tone is flat, unbelieving.

“He isn’t a very powerful one. But he has managed to hold a conversation with Alex over the phone. Twice,” Hal explains, then sighs. “Listen, Natasha, I know this is a lot to take in. And once again I’m sorry for not having been honest with you from the beginning, but surely you understand…” he trails off, and she gives him a small nod and a shaky smile.

“This is definitely not what I expected,” she admits. “But I do understand. Thank you for being honest with me. Now – the reason we came to see you in the first place—”

“Yes, Hatch,” Hal says immediately. “What did he see?”

Natasha shrugs her shoulders helplessly. “I’m not sure. I was installing the last camera, on the brown armchair in the back corner, and when I straightened up and turned around he was there. I honestly don’t know at what point he came in.”

Hal, to Natasha’s surprise and gratitude, remains very calm when he asks, “This was the last camera you said?” Natasha nods. “So the other three cameras will have already been recording when Captain Hatch entered the room?”

Of course. It’s so simple. “We can review the footage and see what he would’ve seen,” she agrees, and Hal nods.

“You do that,” Hal says then, and Natasha’s raises her eyebrows at him. “Alex said she’s going to bring up the footage,” he explains, and looking over to the small table, Natasha can see the monitor suddenly spring to life, showing four different angles of Captain Hatch’s room. Then the images start to reverse quickly. A moment later Hal gets up and walks over to the small table, eyes glued on the monitor. Natasha follows him over with Tom not far behind her.

The camera under the book rack clearly shows Captain Hatch entering the room while Natasha is already crouching down in front of the chair, blocking from view what she is doing down the back of the chair. A moment later, Natasha watches herself turn around and stand up, and through the small tinny speakers she hears the Captain’s voice, “Good to see that they have finally been able to find a replacement for poor Sophie.”

Natasha lets out a big sigh of relief. “He didn’t see anything,” she breathes.

“Doesn’t look like it, no,” Hal agrees. “And from the looks of it he hasn’t found the camera, as it still seems to be recording now.” As he speaks, the recording starts fast forwarding back to the present moment. “But let’s still remain cautious. Keep an eye on all four cameras, see if any of them have been moved, or tampered with, whenever we get an opportunity. But—” he looks sternly at Natasha, “—make _sure_ he doesn’t find you there again.”

She nods. “I will. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” Almost like an afterthought, she adds, “Please don’t tell Dominic I ballsed this up?”

Hal shakes his head. “I won’t. And you didn’t.”

“He wouldn’t agree.” Her voice is bitter, and she tries to soften the blow with a small smile. “He takes the job very seriously.”

“And so he should,” says Hal. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You did well today, Natasha. Nice job.” Tom nods emphatically next to him, and Natasha can’t help the satisfied smile that creeps into her face.

On the screen, unbeknownst to the four pairs of eyes in the room, Captain Hatch is smiling straight into the camera.


	16. The Birds and the Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'There’s someone else, isn’t there?' she asks, and he almost doesn’t hear her over the irritation of her interrupting him again. When his brain catches up with what has been said, his breath hitches in his throat. He knows there is no point in denying it when she is laying it out for him like this.
> 
> He drops his eyes to his lap, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face, and nods. 'I’m sorry, Alex.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dialogue that has been taken directly from Being Human, Series 5, Episode 5 "No Care, All Responsibility". Because I just couldn't help myself.

Is it any wonder I can't sleep  
All I have is all you gave to me  
Is it any wonder I found peace  
Through you

\- The Smashing Pumpkins, “Eye”

  
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Hal?”

Hal looks up from the monitor to see Alex eyeing him with a curious expression on her face. Tom and Natasha left the house about two hours ago, mumbling something about going out to catch a bite to eat, and Hal has busied himself with watching Captain Hatch playing solitaire at the small round table in his room ever since.

To be completely honest, he has avoided spending any significant time alone with Alex since their unfortunate encounter in his room, which ended with Alex kissing him. It has never been his intention to get her hopes up, but somehow, between the (admittedly unreciprocated) kiss and whatever he said to her afterwards, she seems to have concluded that there is hope for them yet, and has been relentlessly flirting with him ever since. It was only a matter of time until she would pick up on his lack of response, his insistence to spend more and more time in his room reading or listening to Radio 4.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Alex,” he says, meeting her eyes with a carefully blank expression on his face.

“Oh please, cut the crap, Hal. Can we just talk about this like two adults? It’s been almost a week, in which you’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I just want to know what’s actually going on. Is that really too much to ask?”

He sighs and walks over to where she is sitting at the bar, taking a seat next to her. It doesn’t escape him that the whole scene seems to be a strange mirror image of their ill-fated date so many months ago. Well, at least he is not at any risk of tearing into her throat this time.

He looks up at her and gives her a small smile. “Alex—”

“Look, I get it,” Alex speaks up quickly. “You’ve obviously changed your mind about the whole thing. But what I don’t get is, why? What brought on the sudden change? In the hotel that night… I know what I felt Hal, and I know you felt it too.”

Her eyes meet his then, and the sadness in them makes his heart ache. He holds her gaze steadily, takes a deep breath, starts again, “Alex—”

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” she asks, and he almost doesn’t hear her over the irritation of her interrupting him again. When his brain catches up with what has been said, his breath hitches in his throat. He knows there is no point in denying it when she is laying it out for him like this.

He drops his eyes to his lap, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face, and nods. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Were you actually planning on telling me?” she asks. “Or were you going to just string me along?”

His eyes dart up to her face and he says, “I never meant to give you any false hope, Alex. I thought by not kissing you back—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault, is it?” Alex snaps, and he heaves an exasperated sigh.

“I never said that. All I meant was that I had planned to tell you, then, but I never got the chance. And afterwards I guess there just hasn’t been another opportunity, until now.”

She visibly deflates at his words, and his heart aches even more now he can see her anger seep away and make room for something much deeper and much more painful.

“So, who is the special someone?” she asks with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Are we going to meet her sometime?”

Okay, first things first. “It’s not her, it’s him.”

Her eyes widen fractionally before she lets out a mirthless laugh and says, “Well, I was about to ask ‘what does she have that I don’t’, but I guess we’ve got the answer to that one.”

Hal closes his eyes briefly. “Alex, please—”

“No, this is… very enlightening, Hal. Really, fascinating. But the thing is... you’re not gay.”

It takes all his willpower not to roll his eyes at her. “I’m bisexual.”

She gives him a long, calculating look. “But hold on. Back when we first met, in the café, I asked you if you had a boyfriend, and you—”

“—said that I didn’t, which was the accurate reply at the time,” he concludes.

She shakes her head with a disbelieving smile on her face. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you ever say?”

Hal lets out a small laugh despite the seriousness of the conversation. “It’s not something you just drop casually into conversation, you know.”

“I think you just did,” she says, and they share a quiet laugh.

Soon, however, the laughter on Alex’s face shrinks back into a sad smile, and she asks, “So, are you going to introduce him sometime, then?”

“You already know him,” he says, and oh, he didn’t mean to say that. At all. She is not going to let it go now.

Predictably, Alex’s ears prick up. “I do?” He nods reluctantly. She gives him a funny look, lets out a nervous laugh, and asks, “It’s not Tom, is it?”

Hal barely manages to hide the grin that threatens to break out on his face at her assumption. “No,” he says, and a slow laugh starts bubbling out of him, “it’s not Tom.”

“What? It’s not that outlandish an idea.”

“Yes, Alex, for a vampire to be dating a werewolf kind of is, sorry,” he explains, earning an eye roll from Alex.

“God, you people are so prejudiced.” Hal is still fighting giggles, and Alex watches him with narrowed eyes. “So definitely not a werewolf then.” Her eyes turn serious for a moment. “Another vampire?” she asks, and he quickly shakes his head.

“I meant what I said about staying away from vampires.”

“Hmm. Human, then?” she asks, a small frown on her face. He meets her eyes and nods. “Are you sure that’s safe, Hal? I mean, no offence, but you know what happened to me, and, and Mary, and—”

“It’s safe, Alex, I assure you.” He puts as much weight into the statement as he possibly can, but all it does is intensify her frown.

“How can you possibly be sure of that?” she says finally, and Hal lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“He can look after himself.”

“Does he know what you are?” she shoots back almost immediately, and he nods.

“Yes, he does. And he’s fully aware of the risks.” This is starting to remind him a lot of the conversation he had with Tom a couple of days ago. His secrets seem to be revealing themselves at a frightening pace.

A moment passes in which neither of them speaks, before Alex narrows her eyes at him again and announces, “But you don’t know any humans.”

“I’m sure you will figure it out, given time,” he says and gets up from the bar, making his way into the kitchen.

The next hour is spent by Alex shouting random names of neighbours, hotel staff and even rather impressively a more or less complete list of current hotel guests at Hal in between her watching crappy TV and him making dinner for himself in the kitchen.

He comes back through to the living room and takes a seat on the corner sofa while she is quite obviously coming to the end of her rather long list, shouting a dejected “Captain Hatch!” in his direction, which earns her a pair of spectacularly raised eyebrows from Hal, as the door opens and Tom ambles into the room, a dreamy smile on his face and what looks like a stuffed dragon in his hand.

He sits down in the armchair and presses the toy dragon to his chest, a faraway look on his face. Hal meets Alex’s eyes across the coffee table with raised eyebrows, and she shrugs.

Turning to Tom, Alex says, “You gonna introduce us to your little friend?”

Tom smiles dopily down at the stuffed toy and says, “Oh yeah. I couldn’t get a bunny.” As if that explains anything. Hal shares another puzzled look with Alex before staring back at Tom, just as the werewolf opens his mouth and says, “You know sex, yeah?”

“Erm…I vaguely remember, yeah,” says Alex, and Hal looks back and forth between his friends with a slight frown on his face. Where on Earth has this come from? “Great segue, by the way,” Alex continues. “You have my full attention.”

“Well, I was thinkin’,” Tom starts, “Say you find a nice lady and you’re ready to pluck your precious flower – how do you know what to do then?”

“Do?” Hal asks, hoping Tom is not actually asking what he thinks he is asking.

“Yeah, like, do with her and stuff.”

Hal can only stare at Tom for a moment, not believing what he is hearing.

“Hal, _darling,_ ” Alex says with a smirk, “do you want to get this one?” _Payback time,_ a little voice at the back of his mind taunts him, and he glares at her before turning back to Tom.

“Tom,” he starts, “Surely McNair taught you about…” he trails off, hoping for Tom to fill in the gap, but when the werewolf only continues to look at him expectantly, he adds, “the birds and the bees?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tom says immediately, and Hal breathes a silent sigh of relief until his friend continues, “Like, livin’ rough I reckon I got to know every type of bird in Britain. And McNair taught me how to steal honey from a hive without being stung or owt.”

Hal shoots a disbelieving look at Alex, who is still sitting there with that infuriating smirk on her face. “Look, may I be excused?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” replies Alex, shaking her head. She is enjoying this way too much, Hal decides.

“But he’s twenty-one, I assumed there was a grasp of the fundamentals.”

Tom gives him an uncertain look, eyebrows drawing together in that way of his, and Hal suddenly feels a little bit bad for what he said. It’s hardly Tom’s fault that he grew up the way he did.

Alex, it seems, is thinking along the same lines. “Tom, don’t listen to him. I think it makes perfect sense that you’re a bit behind in all this stuff. I mean, once a month your body goes nuts and you go running ‘round a wood killing and shagging God knows what.” Okay, maybe that’s not quite what Hal had in mind.

“No, I don’t,” Tom says with an emphatic head shake, looking more insecure than ever.

“What I think Alex means,” Hal explains, “is that perhaps being a werewolf throughout your adolescence means that you spent all that intense carnal energy in other ways, so your progression through the emotional and mental stages of puberty was delayed.”

“Yeah,” says Tom, but judging by the look on his face Hal somehow doubts that the werewolf actually followed even half of what he said. His suspicion is confirmed when he adds, “What’s that got to do with sex, then?”

There is a moment of stunned silence, which Alex interrupts by saying, “You know what, I’m just gonna go out and steal him some porn.”

“No!” Hal and Tom exclaim simultaneously. “I don’t want any of that stuff,” Tom adds. “Them girls might be mothers one day.”

“Quite right, Tom,” Hal says with a nod. He had seen enough objectification of women in the first twenty years of his life to last him five hundred.

Alex looks unconvinced. “Well, it’s that or we sit here and we draw diagrams, and I can’t imagine that would be comfortable for any of us.”

Tom seems to consider his options for a short moment, then gets up, carefully sets the stuffed dragon down on the chair, and mumbles, “I’m goin’ to the library.”

“Good idea,” Hal calls after him. “Font of all human knowledge.”

Tom disappears out the front door, and Alex smiles after him fondly, saying, “Our wee man is all grown up.”

“Where did all this come from?” Hal asks, looking over at Alex.

“Are you serious?” Alex asks with raised eyebrows. “You telling me you didn’t notice him and Natasha making eyes at each other earlier?”

Hal groans. “Honestly?” Alex nods. “Well, Dom— Mr Rook will not be happy about that.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “Who cares about him? It’s hardly like he’s her dad or something. I’d say that she can decide for herself who she wants to go out with.” The thought of Dominic being Natasha’s dad is more than a little disturbing, Hal finds, and he quickly lets it go.

“Yes,” he says instead. “Everyone has the right to decide that.” He gives her a significant look, and she answers it with a small smile.

“You’re right,” Alex says, sounding defeated. “Can’t help what you feel, can you?”

***

Hal lies in bed, watching the red numbers on the digital clock change in sync with his heartbeat.

_3.03 AM_

He has been lying awake ever since turning off his radio after the _Midnight News,_ with a myriad of thoughts running through his head. At first, his mind recounted, once again, his conversation with Tom a couple of evenings ago, and his friend’s surprising conclusion.

_“All right then,” Tom says, resignation heavy in his voice. “Ain’t nowt I can do ‘bout it anyway, now, is there?” Hal, almost too surprised to reply, quickly shakes his head. “Jus’ as long as it’s safe. And you’re not hurtin’ anyone, like.”_

_A stunned silence follows the admission. “So you’re just going to accept it?” Hal asks finally._

_Tom shrugs. “What’d ya expect me to do? You’re still me mate, Hal, and as long as that don’t change, I guess we’re all right. But I’m gonna keep an eye on ya, and if I find out that you’re turnin’ into Bad Hal and you start hurtin’ people, I’ll stake ya.”_

_Hal gives him a small, sad smile. “That sounds fair to me.”_

Despite Tom’s words, Hal has found that his relationship with his friend has… changed, since that day. Tom seems to drop cutting remarks whenever he gets the chance, and Hal can see the werewolf steal frequent glances at him that remind him of his friend’s final words. He stands by what he said to Tom and Alex all those months ago, that should he revert to _him,_ he would be better off dead. And he fully expects his friend to make good on the promise.

Hal’s thoughts wander from Tom to Alex and their conversation earlier today. He knows it is a good thing that he has come clean with her about the whole thing, and he hopes that in time she will be able to move on, maybe even find love somewhere else, although he realises that with her being a ghost, the chances of that happening are rather slim.

He also knows that, after his unfortunate slip of the tongue earlier, she will sooner or later figure out who it is he is dating. There is a part of him that just wants to come out and tell his friends about Dominic, to just be rid of all these ridiculous secrets between them. He never used to keep so many secrets from Leo and Pearl. Ever since he moved to Honolulu Heights, his life seems to have turned into one giant lie, and he wishes not for the first time to be able to go back to when life was so much simpler, in the flat above the barber shop.

But then his thoughts turn to Dominic, and he decides that he wouldn’t give that part of his life up for anything. He replays in his mind the brief phone conversation he had with Dominic just before going to bed.

_“So Natasha tells me that you were pleased with her work today,” Dominic says, sounding all business._

_“Yes, indeed. She did very well,” Hal replies, mirroring Dominic’s serious tone. He can hear Dominic try and fail to suppress a small laugh at the other end._

_“What can I say, she had excellent training.”_

_It’s Hal’s turn to chuckle as he replies, “No doubt.”_

_Dominic’s voice gets serious again as he continues, “She also tells me that there is a ghost living at Honolulu Heights, and that Tom is a werewolf and you are a… psychic.”_

_Hal closes his eyes briefly, sighs. “Yes. She didn’t really leave us much choice, Dominic. And I thought a little white lie would be preferable to the real truth.”_

_“Most definitely,” Dominic agrees, and there is a hint of terror in his voice at the mere thought that anyone, most of all Natasha, could find out he is dating a vampire. “Thank you, Hal,” he adds in a small voice._

_“You’re welcome.”_

_There is a short pause in which neither of them seems to know what to say. It is Dominic who finally breaks the silence._

_“I miss you.”_

_Hal feels a smile creep into his face at the admission. “I miss you too.”_

_“Good night, Hal,” Dominic says, and he can hear in his voice that he is also smiling._

_“Night, Dominic. Sleep well.”_

That was four hours ago, and Hal wishes he could take his own advice. He can feel the very beginnings of hunger stir at the pit of his stomach, and idly thinks that he will probably have to ask to see Dominic again very soon. Perhaps even later today. The thought brings another smile to his face, and he feels himself relax. The image of his human’s beautiful blue eyes fixed on him while he stretches his neck out to him and silently beckons him closer is what finally allows him to let go of his troubling thoughts and drift off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

***

**Are you planning to pick Natasha up from work today?**

The message sits brightly in the middle of his phone screen, and Dominic can’t help the little smile that forms on his lips. He quickly writes back,

_**I am now xx** _

Hal’s reply only takes a few short moments.

**Good. Meet me at the hotel at 2.30pm xx**

Dominic chuckles at his phone.

_**Is that a date? Xx** _

Hal’s reply, this time, takes a little bit longer, but when it arrives the message puts a smile on his face.

**No. A date would be me taking you out for dinner. This is just going to be a quick tryst xx**

**_I can settle for a quick tryst xx_ **

**See you at 2.30 xx**

***

Hal is opening the inner porch door when he hears Alex’s voice from the living room. “Where are you going?” He stops in his tracks. The ghost ambles over to him, giving him a curious look.

“Out,” he says briskly. “I’m going out.” He really isn’t in the mood for chatter. He has agreed to see Dominic at 2.30pm, and it’s already 2.22pm. The walk to the hotel takes him ten minutes at a normal pace, which means he will already have to speed up if he wants to be on time, and Hal hates being late. On top of that, his hunger is flaring up in earnest now, giving him a somewhat short fuse.

“As in you’re going out with someone, or...” There is a teasing quality in Alex’s voice, and he realises she is angling for a name. Are they still playing this game? Fine, then.

“It’s Rook,” he says firmly, not looking directly into her eyes.

Alex snorts. “You’re going out with Rook?”

“Yes.” He is still not looking at her, not wanting to see the realisation dawn on her face.

“Hang on, you mean you’re _going out_ with _Rook_?”

Hal’s eyes finally come up to meet hers, silently pleading with her to just let it go, but it seems like this is just the sort of confirmation Alex was looking for. Her jaw drops and she gives him a look of such disbelief that all Hal can do is push past her to the door, muttering, “If you’ll excuse me” as he goes.

“We’ll talk about this when you get back,” Alex calls after him, and the tone of her voice tells Hal that there is no getting out of this one.

Hal sighs and makes his way down the street at a hurried pace. His watch tells him it’s 2.24pm now, and Dominic is probably already waiting for him at the hotel.

As expected, walking up to the hotel a few minutes later, he can see Dominic’s silver Lexus parked across the road from the entrance, and he can just about make out the blond man sitting behind the wheel, glancing out in front of him. A moment later, his eyes have found Hal walking towards him, and he smiles.

Hal comes to a stop next to the driver’s door of the car. The window is fully rolled down, and he grabs the frame with both hands, leaning his head down and in towards Dominic, who looks at him with wide eyes. “Hey there,” he says quietly, stealing a quick peck on the very corner of Dominic’s mouth before straightening up. “Meet me inside in two minutes. Just go to reception and ask for me. I’ll be in the manager’s office.”

Dominic nods to show that he has understood, and Hal makes his way across the road and through the doors to the hotel. He briefly notices Captain Hatch sitting in the foyer, reading the National Gazette, and tries his best to steal past without being spotted by the old man.

He shuts the office door behind him and half-sits on the edge of the desk, watching the door in heated anticipation. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long until there is a quick, polite knock on the door before it opens and reveals the object of his desire. Dominic quickly shuts the door behind him and walks up to Hal in three long strides. His hands land on the desk on either side of Hal, effectively trapping him there, and the next moment his lips are on Hal’s. They kiss like this for a long moment, Hal’s hands coming up to rest on Dominic’s back and Dominic’s thumbs lightly rubbing at Hal’s thighs where they meet the wooden desk. When they do eventually pull back, Hal notices that Dominic is breathing heavily and his face is flushed with a delicious red tinge that sends a fiery spark into his gut.

“Sorry,” Dominic breathes, pulling back a fraction. “Missed you.”

Hal can’t help the little chuckle that escapes his lips. “Don’t apologise for _that,_ ” he says, and relishes the sight of Dominic’s flushed cheeks turning an even deeper shade of crimson. “And I missed you too.”

His eyes dart down to Dominic’s neck. He is not wearing a tie, Hal notices with a smile, and with the top two buttons undone he can just make out the two little pink marks on his skin. He leans down, no longer able to control himself, and feels Dominic tense slightly under him.

“Are you all right?” he asks, alarmed, and he feels more than sees Dominic’s brief nod.

“Yes. It’s just… are you sure no one is going to come in?” Hal pulls away from him slightly and Dominic vaguely gestures in the direction of the unlocked door.

Hal’s hand comes up to gently cup Dominic’s cheek and turn his head towards him, fixing his eyes on him. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that someone does,” he explains, as patiently as he can, but it is difficult with Dominic’s scent all around him and his racing heartbeat in his ears. He looks at Dominic expectantly until the other man gives him a small reluctant nod.

He leans in again, touching his lips to the warm skin at the junction of Dominic’s neck and shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he feels his fangs extend and wastes no time before sinking them into the soft flesh, feeling the crimson liquid fill his mouth a moment later. He vaguely notices something – a hand? – coming up and brushing through his hair at the back of his head and he thinks he can hear small noises coming from Dominic as he carefully sucks at his jugular. Is he hurting him? A flashback of three days ago pops up in his mind – he was hurting him then. But the sounds Dominic is making now are nothing like the pained whimper he heard then, and Hal relaxes against his neck, lapping up a stray trickle of blood from the pale skin with his tongue while still receiving a steady flow into his mouth straight from the vein.

Dominic’s firm hands on his chest signal to him that it is time to stop, and he reluctantly pulls away, eyes still fixed on the small well of crimson. His brain is starting to feel a bit fuzzy, and he forcefully snaps his eyes away from the wound to try and clear his head.

Dominic smiles at him. “Was that good?”

“Always,” Hal says, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “Thank you.”

Dominic leans in to give him a soft kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “You’re welcome.” He quickly puts a dressing on his neck and buttons up his shirt, then glances at his watch. Straightening up and looking at Hal, he says, “I better go. Natasha’s due to finish her shift in five minutes.”

“Okay,” Hal agrees. Dominic turns to leave, and just as he is about to depress the door handle, Hal adds, “I want to cook you dinner. Monday. At your place.”

Dominic freezes for a moment, then turns back around and gives him a stunned look, which quickly morphs into a bright smile. “Is that a date?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” Hal nods his head. “That is a date.”

“Monday,” Dominic repeats. “Get to my flat at seven?”

Hal gives another nod, which Dominic returns before disappearing through the door, and Hal finds himself still smiling like an idiot long after the door has fallen into its latch.

***

“Hal’s shagging Rook,” Alex announces as she ambles into the kitchen, where Tom is sat having dinner on his own. His thoughts are reeling around Natasha and the things he read in that book he picked up from the library, and it takes him a moment to catch up to what the ghost has been saying to him. When he does, the words still don’t seem to make any kind of sense to him.

“Wha’?” He looks up to see Alex looking back at him with raised eyebrows. She walks over and takes a seat across from him at the kitchen table.

“He told me, earlier,” she continues, ignoring Tom’s puzzled expression. “Well, ‘shagging’ isn't the exact word he used, more like ‘going out with’, but it's basically Hal speak for shagging.”

Tom lets this new bit of information sink in for a moment, decides that it still doesn’t make any more sense, and shakes his head emphatically. “No way.”

“I know right, can't quite believe it myself. I mean, I knew he was dating a bloke—”

“Wha’?” Tom blurts out. This conversation is getting weirder and weirder. And he thought it was bad enough when Hal told him about the vampire blood bank the other day. It still stings, thinking about the fact that their friend has betrayed them, is still betraying them, by drinking blood again. And now Alex is spouting some nonsense about him going out with a bloke?

“Hal’s not dating a bloke. He likes women, he told me,” Tom says with conviction. “Last year, when Kirby was ‘ere, him and Annie made me’n Hal play, like, a gay couple for the GP—”

“What?” Alex exclaims with a laugh, and Tom feels the tips of his ears go red.

“Yeah, never mind that. It was for baby Eve, ‘cause she was sick, see. And I was all right with it, ya know, but Hal was so, I dunno, weird about it.”

“Maybe it hit too close to home,” Alex suggests. “Or maybe it was because it was you.” Tom looks at her quizzically and a little bit hurt, and she explains, “You know, because you’re a werewolf. He seemed quite… adamant that that’s not the done thing.”

“Well, yeah, but it wouldn’t be the done thing anyway, ‘cause I don’t like blokes, like that. And neither does Hal.” Alex gives him an exasperated look, and he adds, “He went out with you, didn’t he?”

A sad half-smile passes over Alex’s face for a split second. “Some people like both, Tom,” she says, and he frowns. “But anyway, the point is,” Alex continues in a rush, “that this isn’t just any bloke. This is _Rook_ we're talking about.” She lets out a small shudder, and Tom just stares at her for a moment.

Hal is going out with Rook? Even if Alex is right and he does… like both, Tom just can’t imagine that his friend would want to be with that man. He hasn’t had dealings with Rook as much as Hal and Alex have, but he can still see that the man is rude and dogmatic and prejudiced and speaks in an infuriatingly posh accent.

_Kinda a lot like Hal._

Still, he can’t believe that his friend’s taste in, well, men would be quite this bad, judging by his taste in women. There must be another reason—

“Do you think he's a… whaddaya call ‘em? A succubus?”

Alex snorts. “Who, Rook? Nah, he's human. He can't see me, remember?”

“Well, no, but he can hear ya,” Tom points out.

“Yes, that’s because, as Hal explained the other day, he’s a psychic. That still means he’s human.”

Tom thinks back for a moment to their conversation with Natasha. He understands, of course, why Hal didn’t want to reveal his true nature to Natasha, knowing who she is and what happened to her as a child. And all things considered, his lie was perfectly reasonable, but it still doesn’t sit right with him that they have to be dishonest with her in that way.

“But never mind what he is,” Alex continues, “fact is they're shagging.”

“We are _not_ ‘shagging’.” Hal's voice from the doorway makes them both jump.

“Hey, didn't know you were back,” says Alex nonchalantly, and Tom busies himself with his food.

“Clearly,” replies Hal dryly. “And just for your information, if it's a male, it is called an incubus.”

Tom feels a quick surge of anger towards the vampire for always correcting everything he says, and replies indignantly, “That's what I meant.”

"To answer your question, Tom,” Hal continues and walks over to the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms in front of his chest, “as Alex rightly pointed out, Dominic is not an incubus. He's a human.”

“ _Dominic,_ ” Alex repeats with raised eyebrows at Tom, earning an exasperated sigh from Hal. “What I still don’t understand,” Alex adds, turning towards Hal, “is how it is that you can be with a human. I thought you said you can't allow yourself to get close to humans.”

Hal hesitates for a moment, and Tom gives him a sharp look, which his friend briefly returns with a silent warning in his eyes before looking down. It seems like Hal is choosing his words very carefully when he replies, “Let’s just say I have found a way of suppressing the bloodlust to a point where it makes it easier for me to engage with humans.”

 _Yeah, right,_ Tom almost scoffs.

Across the table, he can see Alex narrowing her eyes. It is only a matter of time before she figures it out as well, Tom is sure.

“Still doesn’t explain why Rook of all people,” Alex says quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Alex,” Hal replies, looking directly into Alex’s eyes, and Tom has the sudden strange feeling like he is intruding. Then Hal clears his throat and looks away and the moment is gone. “Anyway,” he says, “If you'll excuse me, I need to get on with my evening routine. Two hundred press-ups before bed.”

“Shaping up for Rook,” Alex mutters, earning a dangerous glare from Hal before he disappears through the door into the hallway.

***

Dominic sits down at the desk in his study and puts the glass of whisky down next to his laptop before opening the lid. He has been positively negligent with regards to his emails recently, so he takes the opportunity of Natasha watching her ridiculous vampire romance film in the other room to catch up on his recent messages.

There is nothing that immediately catches his eye as he brings up his email inbox. A good few spam messages trying to sell him car insurance deals, mobile phone contracts and electrical appliances, a gas and electricity e-bill, a reminder to renew his TV licence. But then his eyes fall on an email at the bottom of the screen, sent three days ago by someone called Timothy Crawford. The name rings a bell, but it takes Dominic a moment to recognise the full significance of the email. He opens it in a new window and reads…

_Dear Mr Rook,_

_I have been contacted by my Right Honourable colleague Alistair Frith regarding your very unfortunate and unusual situation. Indeed I understand that, having worked for a department such as yours, which has been a well-kept secret even amongst most other government departments, for your entire career, you will have considerable difficulties on the modern job market._

_The Home Secretary has therefore asked me if there are any openings in my own department, and as I am sure you are already aware, there are a number of vacant research posts in Wildlife Conservation for a new biodiversity project._

Wildlife conservation? Biodiversity? Dominic lets out a hollow laugh. This is what they think he has been doing, isn’t it. Controlling ‘diseased and dangerous livestock’, as Alistair once put it. Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, he reads on.

_Taking into account your wealth of experience and the length of your employment in the Department of Domestic Defence, I would therefore like to offer you the position of lead researcher on this project. Should you be inclined to accept my offer, I would like to invite you to London to commence your position for a planned project start date of 1st April 2013._

_Please send your response as soon as possible. I am looking forward to working with you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_The Rt. Hon. Timothy Crawford MP_  
_Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs_

Dominic stares at the screen for a long moment. London. The position is going to be in London. He will have to move… to London.

How on Earth is he going to tell Hal?


	17. History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Are you going to let me in, or are you thinking of rescinding the invitation?'
> 
> Dominic’s eyes widen when he realises that Hal is not just talking about the dinner invitation. Which, by the way, wasn’t ever an invitation to begin with. Hal rather invited himself.
> 
> 'Of course not,' he says quickly, stepping back into the hallway to make some space for Hal to come through."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to say thank you so much again to everyone who is reading this. It seriously means a lot. 
> 
> Please see the updated warning in tags - this has been something that has been part of my headcanon for Hal for a long time, and it's always been at the back of my mind when writing him. In my eyes, this is part of what eventually led to him developing his split personality.
> 
> With that said, please enjoy the chapter!

You and me, meant to be  
Immutable, impossible  
It's destiny, pure lunacy  
Incalculable, inseparable

\- The Smashing Pumpkins, “Stand Inside Your Love”

  
Dominic stands in front of his wardrobe mirror, straightening the collar on the deep burgundy shirt Natasha laid out on his bed as his ‘outfit’ for the night, along with a pair of suspiciously tight-fitting black chinos, as he hears a careful knock on the door, and his heart jumps into his throat.

Natasha left the flat ten minutes ago, with a grin and a wink and a “Have fun”, saying she was out on a date of her own before her nightshift at the hotel. Dominic’s eyes narrowed at the mention of a date, as she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with the identity of the young man she has been seeing for the last few days, only saying that he is nice and she enjoys spending time with him.

With a racing heart and a familiar, but particularly violent flutter in his stomach, Dominic opens the door. The sight of Hal, wearing a dark grey three-piece suit over a black shirt and holding a bottle of what looks like expensive red wine and a carrier bag full of food items, takes his breath away, and he finds himself just standing and staring for a moment. For what must be the hundredth time, he wonders what it could possibly be that would attract someone like Hal, who could have any man or woman he has set his eyes on, to, well, him.

 _Maybe it’s all just about the blood,_ a vindictive little voice at the back of his mind speaks up. He quickly shuts it up and looks back at Hal, who is standing before him with his eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth curved up in amusement.

“Are you going to let me in, or are you thinking of rescinding the invitation?”

Dominic’s eyes widen when he realises that Hal is not just talking about the dinner invitation. Which, by the way, wasn’t ever an invitation to begin with. Hal rather invited himself.

“Of course not,” he says quickly, stepping back into the hallway to make some space for Hal to come through.

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Hal and places a quick peck on Dominic’s cheek as he walks past him towards the kitchen. Dominic follows him into the small room.

“Is that even possible?” he asks, and Hal looks up at him from where he set the bag down on the counter with a curious look on his face.

“Is what even possible?”

“To rescind an invitation, once it has been given,” Dominic explains, his scientific mind taking over for a moment, if only to distract him from all the images of what he wants to do to the incredibly attractive Type 2 currently standing in the middle of his kitchen.

“It is possible, but not very common. Most people don't realise they can, so they never try,” Hal explains while pulling a bunch of fresh herbs and a pack of dried apricots from the bag and placing them on the counter.

Dominic comes up behind him and peers over his shoulder, one hand running lightly down from Hal’s shoulder blade to the small of his back, where he lets it linger.

“What are you making?” he asks, watching as a small bag of flaked almonds and a bunch of spring onion joins the other ingredients on the counter.

Hal half turns towards him and gives him a smile that makes Dominic's insides dance.

“Moroccan beef tagine with spiced brown rice and a side of lightly wilted spinach,” he says, and when did they end up standing so close?

“Sounds intriguing,” replies Dominic.

Hal leans down very slightly to close the gap between them, only a chaste touch of lips to lips, but it feels like utter perfection. Dominic’s eyes close of their own accord and his hand tightens slightly around Hal's narrow waist, while he feels one of Hal’s hands on the side of his face, thumb brushing just at the edge of their joint lips. Then Hal pulls away, looks at him with bright eyes.

“There’s plenty of time for this later. We should get the food on first.”

Dominic manages a small nod. “Yes, you're right. Of course.”

Hal chuckles lightly and turns back to the counter to continue unpacking his cooking ingredients. A bag of brown rice, a bag of spinach and a small bag of carrots appear on the counter.

“Why a tagine?” Dominic asks, honestly intrigued.

Hal trains big hazel eyes on him. “It contains a lot of ingredients that are particularly high in iron,” he says, and Dominic frowns.

Of all the reasons Hal would have chosen to cook this particular recipe, this is not one he would have considered. And why is iron so important anyway?

Oh.

 _Didn't I tell you it was all about the blood?_ The vindictive little voice is back and more gloating than ever.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Hal's concerned voice jolts him from his thoughts. He looks up to see the Type 2 watching him with a small frown on his face.

Dominic quickly shakes his head, trying to dismiss the thought. He tries on a small smile, says, “That sounds lovely. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Hal's face falls as he realises his mistake, and he brings his hand back up to brush against Dominic's cheek. “I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean… I just wanted to…” He trails off, looks down in order to gather his thoughts for a moment. He sounds a lot more self-assured when he speaks up again, “I think we need to keep in mind that you are giving me a considerable amount of blood quite regularly, Dominic. This is not without risks for you, and I want to make it as safe as I possibly can.” His eyes are boring into Dominic's, big and genuine, before he leans in to place another gentle kiss on his lips.

Dominic feels his anger drain away from him as he melts into the kiss, his own hands combing into the hair at the back of Hal’s head.

Hal is, once again, the first to pull back, his hand dropping from Dominic's cheek to his chest, where it lingers for a long moment, as if Hal is feeling his heartbeat.

_He probably is._

“Plus, it is incredibly tasty, as well,” Hal says with a small smile, and Dominic can't help but smile back.

“I look forward to it.”

“And so you should,” Hal says before turning back to his carrier bag and quietly adding, “My culinary skills are legendary.”

“And you're so modest, as well,” Dominic says with a smirk. Hal turns around to him and winks, a pack of lean diced beef in his hand, and Dominic lets out a loud, happy laugh.

He can't remember the last time he laughed like that, or, indeed, if he ever actually has. Janine, his nanny, used to be quite good at making him laugh, but when she moved to London just after his thirteenth birthday, she took all the laughter with her, leaving behind a sad, broken boy who was far too old for his years.

“While I quite appreciate you standing there and looking beautiful, I also wouldn't mind a hand with chopping some of the vegetables,” Hal says, and Dominic feels heat creep into his cheeks at his words.

He retrieves a chopping board and knife from the opposite counter and comes to stand next to Hal, who is in the process of transferring the meat into a large saucepan. Turning back to Dominic, he gestures to the carrots and says, “Chop those while I get the meat on to cook. Have you got another knife and chopping board?”

Dominic points the items in question out to Hal, and the Type 2 proceeds with chopping up an onion and adding it to the meat.

The next ten minutes are spent preparing the various ingredients to go into the tagine in relative silence, with the occasional ‘accidental’ brush of hands and long, intense looks that promise more, later. Once the last ingredient has been added to the saucepan, Hal turns down the heat on the hob and looks at Dominic with a smile.

“Now it has to simmer for at least an hour and a half,” he says. “Might as well do something else for a bit while we're waiting.”

***

Apart from the almost-disastrous moment of him trying to justify his motives to Dominic, this has been going surprisingly well so far, Hal thinks, as Dominic takes his hand and leads him through to the living room, where he pulls him down to sit next to him on the sofa. The thought dies in his mind the next moment, as Dominic turns towards him and stretches his neck out to him in an obvious invitation, as if it is not bad enough that the blasted burgundy shirt the man has decided to wear tonight has been playing tricks on him the entire evening, sparking his imagination with images of dark red liquid.

Hal closes his eyes and forces himself to stop breathing for a long moment, making his hunger subside. He can’t give in yet, he has a plan. A plan that involves eating a lovely meal with his boyfriend, which is something he is sure he will not manage to do if he indulges in his other urges now. Also, he has come to understand that, judging by his responses, Hal drinking his blood is basically akin to foreplay for Dominic, and he fully intends to take advantage of that – later.

He pulls back from Dominic on the sofa, looks deep into his big blue eyes and says, “Not now, Dominic. Can we just… I don’t know… sit here for a bit? Talk, or watch some TV or… something?”

Dominic looks surprised, but not in a disappointed way. “Of course. I’m sorry, I just thought you would be… hungry.” The last word is said in a quiet, hesitant voice, as if Hal’s bloodlust is still not something he is comfortable talking about.

Hal lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am. But I would like to wait until after dinner, if it’s all the same to you.”

Dominic nods. “Of course.”

They settle back on the sofa and Dominic puts on one of Natasha’s DVDs, a supernatural horror film involving a malicious female ghost killing children in an old English village. They spend the majority of the film sitting close to each other on the sofa with Hal criticising the historical inaccuracies and Dominic bickering good-naturedly about the vindictive nature of ‘Type 1s’.

“I’ll tell Alex you said that,” Hal says with a smile on his face. Dominic lifts his head from where it has been resting on Hal’s shoulder.

“I’m not saying that _every_ Type 1 is necessarily like that,” he qualifies his previous statement, “but you have to admit that some of them end up rather… vengeful, particularly if they hang around for a while.”

Hal’s thoughts turn to Mary and he gives a quick nod. “Some do,” he concedes.

Dominic looks thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Hal, do you happen to know anything about a Type 1 breaking into my office at work and sending… indecent emails from my laptop?”

Hal lets out an involuntary laugh. “That would have been Alex, I’m afraid. She went through a period of… let’s call it intense dislike of you, for stealing her body at the nightclub. She thought that taking revenge on you might be her unfinished business. Turns out that wasn’t the case, of course.”

Dominic’s eyes widen. “So it was Alex who hid those blasted fish in my office? I couldn’t get the stench out for weeks, you know. Air circulation isn’t exactly the best down there.” Hal can’t help the grin that is forming on his face. Dominic gives him a steely glare. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“No,” Hal says quickly, trying his very best to swallow down the laughter that is threatening to burst out of him at any moment. “Not funny at all.” Then he thinks back over what Dominic said, and adds, “I don't know anything about any indecent emails, though.”

Dominic snorts. “Oh, believe me, it was.”

“What did it say?”

Dominic looks absolutely scandalised as he recounts, “‘Dearest Alistair, I can’t take the tension between us any longer. The truth is, I want to touch your willy.’” At this point Hal finds it impossible hold back the laughter any more, especially after hearing Dominic actually using the word ‘willy’.

“Who is Alistair?” he asks in between fits of laughter. Dominic watches him with wide eyes, his mouth forming an adorable little pout that makes him want to kiss it badly.

“Alistair Frith. The Home Secretary,” he says gruffly, and Hal feels a new wave of laughter bubbling up.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out. “But this is hilarious.”

“I’m glad you think so,” says Dominic. “But let me tell you it left me in an incredibly awkward situation.”

“I can imagine it would have done,” Hal admits. “I can’t believe she actually did that.”

“And you were saying Type 1s are not vindictive,” Dominic gloats. “That just proves my point.”

Hal gives one last short laugh and glances at the screen. The end credits are rolling.

“I think it’s time to check on the food,” he says before standing up and holding out his hand for Dominic. The man takes it and allows Hal to lead him back into the kitchen, where Hal goes straight over to the saucepan to check on the tagine, then puts on another saucepan for the rice and switches on the oven to preheat.

“What’s that for?” Dominic asks, indicating the oven.

“A surprise,” Hal says with a smile and reaches out to pull Dominic towards him. The man easily folds into his arms, and Hal marvels at how far they’ve come in the not quite three weeks since they started this thing. Hal rests his hands on the small of Dominic’s back and allows Dominic to pull his head down into a gentle, lingering kiss, lips slowly moving against each other. God, he will never, ever tire of kissing this man.

“I don’t particularly like surprises,” Dominic says, his breath ghosting over Hal’s lips.

“Trust me, you’ll like this one,” Hal assures him, then captures his lips one more time before pulling away, coming up against some resistance from the blond man, who apparently doesn’t want to let him go. “Can’t risk ruining the food now, can we?” he reasons. Dominic lets out a loud sigh, but finally allows him to get back to the cooking.

***

Half an hour later, Dominic sits down at the dining table with Hal putting a plate down carefully in front of him before he opens the expensive looking bottle of Rioja Reserva and pours a glass for Dominic and then for himself.

He has to admit that the food smells and looks absolutely wonderful, and he tells Hal as much as he sits down across from him in front of his own plate, which he notices contains a slightly smaller portion than his own.

“I told you it would be good,” Hal says with a self-satisfied smile, and Dominic lets out a small, exasperated laugh.

He looks up at Hal and sees that he is watching him, obviously waiting for him to have a taste of the food. He picks up his fork and takes a bite of a perfectly tender piece of meat. The way the different flavours come together is absolutely glorious, and he can’t help the little satisfied hum that escapes his mouth, earning a small chuckle from Hal.

“You like it?”

“It’s delicious,” he says before taking another mouthful. Hal smiles, looking genuinely pleased this time.

They sit in silence for a moment, eating, drinking and sending lingering glances across the table, before Dominic breaks the silence by asking, “So you used to live in London?” He isn’t exactly ready to tell Hal that he is about to move to the capital, not yet sure how they are going to jump that particular hurdle, but it can’t hurt to know a little bit about the place, and also to find out something about Hal’s past in the process.

Hal takes a sip of wine before answering. “Yes, a few times over the years. London’s a hard place to avoid.”

“Indeed,” Dominic says, but doesn’t allow the dark thoughts to cloud this lovely moment. He is on a date with his boyfriend, and it’s all going marvellously well. He can’t allow himself to spoil it now. “You told Natasha that you grew up there,” he continues.

Hal gives him a small nod. “Yes, I did. South Bank, I guess you would call it now.”

A thought suddenly comes into Dominic’s mind. “Did you ever meet Shakespeare?”

Hal barks out a laugh. “No. That was… about a hundred years after my time, Dominic.”

Dominic allows himself a short moment to marvel at the fact that he is talking to a person who can genuinely argue that Shakespeare was ‘after his time’.

Hal continues, “Even if it hadn’t been, I wasn’t the type of person who would have been welcomed in any of the theatres at the time.”

Dominic shoots him a curious look. Hal mentioned to him once before that he grew up in a brothel, and the idea is so incongruent with the version of Hal that he now sees before him that he has a difficult time integrating the two. “What do you mean?” he says, hoping by keeping the question vague to get all the more information.

“I didn’t exactly have a… traditional upbringing,” Hal says, and there is a dark undertone in his voice. “For one thing, I didn’t learn how to read or write until after I was recruited.” Dominic is genuinely intrigued by that, and Hal continues, “Dariusz, the army surgeon who recruited me, taught me the basics, and I continued my own education from there.”

“You seem to have done an excellent job.”

“I’ve had a lot of time,” Hal says and looks down at his plate, piling some more food onto his fork.

The conversation continues on along a similar vein, Dominic listening with baited breath to Hal’s personal account of the Great British Vampire Hunt of 1665, and how he only just escaped with his life by fleeing Bristol in the dead of night aided by the famous Type 2 Richard Turner himself. Dominic remembers coming across Richard Turner’s file (#CE089) in the Archive when he was a boy, and devouring it like a story book at the time.

“Do you know what happened to him?” he asks.

“Richard?” Hal asks and Dominic nods. “No. I left the country after that, never seen him again I’m afraid. I’m not even sure if he is still alive, in fact I highly doubt it. He was never one to keep a low profile.”

“Well, neither were you, to be fair,” Dominic points out. “Until you… disappeared off the face of the Earth sixty years ago.”

“Fifty-eight years ago. But yes, I guess you have a point,” says Hal. There is a melancholic smile playing on his lips, and Dominic is interested to know more about what brought it there.

“Tell me about… Leo, was it?”

Hal smiles at him and starts into a lengthy tale of his werewolf friend, who agreed to help him get clean and managed to keep him off the blood for over fifty-five years. Halfway through, he gets up, walks into the kitchen, comes back a moment later with a big smile on his face.

“What?” Dominic asks, looking between Hal and the kitchen door.

“Almost time for dessert,” Hal says and sits back down at the table. “So, I was saying…” And he continues on telling Dominic about Leo and Pearl and the flat above the barber shop. It’s incredible, really, Dominic thinks, what those three supernaturals seem to have achieved, for a longer time than he has even been alive. Nothing is permanent, of course, if you live to five hundred years old, but he has to give the Type 3 credit for having made a valiant effort. Without him, he realises, the Hal sitting before him now surely wouldn’t exist.

Hal gets up again to walk into the kitchen, taking their empty plates with him, and reappears moments later with two small white ramekins containing what looks like…

“Dark chocolate soufflé,” he explains with a smile and a quick peck on the cheek as he sets one of the ramekins down in front of Dominic.

Dominic raises his eyes at Hal across the table, sees the glint in the Type 2’s eyes. Rolling his own eyes for effect, he says, “More iron, hm?”

“Exactly.”

There is a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing.

The deliciously gooey chocolate soufflé is, Dominic has to admit, a worthy finish to an overall extraordinary meal. Hal obviously wasn’t kidding when he talked about his legendary cooking skills.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” he asks and Hal chuckles around a mouthful of chocolate.

“As I said before, I’ve had a long time to learn things, Dominic.”

Dominic thinks about that for a moment, then nods. “Fair point.”

Their eyes meet across the table, and Dominic finds a sudden heat in Hal’s eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. He holds Hal’s gaze for a much longer moment than would be appropriate under any other circumstances, and sees the Type 2’s eyes darken with a familiar mixture of desire and hunger. Putting his spoon down and draining the last of his wine, Dominic stands up, holding his hand out to Hal, who looks at it for a moment before taking it.

He leads Hal over to the three-seater, pulling him down next to him, and starts to slowly undo the buttons on his burgundy shirt. He feels Hal’s eyes on him the whole time, taking pleasure in the way Hal's gaze is searing into every inch of skin he reveals as his hands slowly make their way down his chest. His breath hitches in his throat as Hal’s cool fingers come up to push the shirt away from his chest and run along the exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Hal’s other hand pulls away the open collar from his neck, and Hal’s eyes zoom in on the familiar spot. A moment later Dominic can feel the electrifying sting of Hal’s fangs in his neck and he closes his eyes, for the first time truly letting himself savour the sensation the way his body has been telling him to. He can feel the stirrings of arousal in the pit of his stomach, shooting down into his groin, small whimpers bubbling up from his throat. Hal’s hand is still on his chest while he is feeding, and this is new… Hal is caressing him, thumb rubbing feather-lightly over one nipple, then the other, and it’s all too much, too much sensation, he can’t take it—

Dominic’s eyes fly open and he realises with alarm that he has not been keeping count of how long Hal has been drinking for. He is fairly certain that it must have been well more than ten seconds by now, and he reluctantly pushes Hal away. His eyes come up to the Type 2, who is wiping his mouth with his hand and licking the excess blood off his fingers. Raising his glassy eyes to meet Dominic’s he quickly sits up straighter and retrieves a couple of paper tissues from the table, wiping his mouth clean with one before pressing the other to Dominic’s neck. By doing so, Hal leans in close to him, and Dominic takes the opportunity to press an open-mouthed kiss to his plump, pink lips. Hal kisses him back and they stay like that for a long moment, sharing each other’s air. Dominic is vaguely aware of Hal’s hand wandering again, and the next moment it is on his belt buckle, and this all feels very much like a repeat of their first time together here on this very sofa.

Except, Hal doesn’t stop there this time. Instead of opening his trousers and wrapping his hand around his erection, Dominic watches as Hal slips down onto the floor, kneeling between Dominic’s legs as he opens the zip on his trousers and pulls down his underwear. Dominic’s eyes grow huge as he looks between his own hard cock and Hal’s face only inches away from it, hazel eyes looking up at him.

“I might be a little bit out of practice with this,” he says, raising his eyebrows fractionally. “I haven’t done it for a little while.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do, I’m sure you’ll do it perfectly well,” Dominic chokes out, breath caught in his throat.

The next moment, Hal leans down and runs his tongue up the underside of Dominic’s cock, and a loud moan escapes his lips. Hal slowly swirls his tongue around the head before pressing a soft, feather light kiss to it with closed lips.

“Oh my God,” Dominic exclaims. Hal’s tongue is back licking little swirls around the head before going all the way down to the base again, and further down to gently caress his balls and oh, this is the most incredible feeling he has ever— “Where on _Earth_ did you learn to do that?”

Hal chuckles lightly, and the air vibration against the hypersensitive skin on his balls is driving him insane. His brain is having a hard time keeping up with Hal’s words, but he is sure he can hear him speak again. “I may not have known how to read or write, but they did teach you some things in a sixteenth century brothel.”

What was that? Hal’s tongue is back up at the head of his cock, lightly teasing at the slit, and— what did he just say? It’s important, he has to concentrate, but—

Hal chooses that moment to close his soft, cool lips around him, slowly taking him into his mouth, and all rational thought leaves Dominic as he is overcome with sensation. A loud moan rises up from the bottom of his chest and he rolls his head back, eyes tightly shut and mind overrun by the feeling of Hal’s mouth around his cock, moving up and down, fast, then slow, then fast again, tongue making little swirls around the sensitive flesh, while one of his hands is gently massaging his balls, the other digging into the sensitive skin of his thigh. Dominic’s own hand comes up to lie on Hal’s shoulder, the other cups the back of Hal’s head, threading through his soft, brown hair as Hal continues to work his cock with his mouth.

Dominic opens his eyes and sees Hal’s hazel eyes staring up at him as he takes the head of his cock into his mouth and gently, ever so gently, grazes his teeth along the length, and Dominic is lost.

“Hal,” he chokes out, because he has to tell him, has to warn him, because, “Hal, I’m going to—”

And the next moment he is spilling his release straight into Hal’s mouth and he watches with wide eyes as Hal doesn’t pull away but stays put, eyes on Dominic as he patiently waits for him to finish before he gently lets go of his softening cock and swallows.

Dominic sits there for a long moment, catching his breath and staring down at Hal on his knees between his legs. After a minute or so, Hal gets up and sits on the sofa next to him, and Dominic pulls him in for a kiss. The taste of himself on Hal’s lips is a little off-putting at first, but he soon decides that it’s no worse than blood, and allows himself to melt into the kiss. Their lips move languidly against each other for a long moment before Dominic pulls away slightly and looks at Hal.

“That was…” he starts, but has no idea how to finish that sentence. “Thank you,” he says instead.

Hal smiles at him, eyes still slightly glassy from the blood rush, and how Dominic loves it when he’s like this, all sated and happy and sensual. “My pleasure, beautiful,” he says and kisses him again. Dominic opens his mouth and welcomes Hal’s exploring tongue, meets it with his own. Hal lets out a little excited whimper at the contact, and Dominic becomes suddenly aware of Hal’s own arousal, which has as yet been unaddressed.

He reluctantly pulls away from him, gets to his feet, which only wobble very slightly, and looks down at Hal, who meets his eyes with a different kind of hunger in his gaze.

“Follow me,” he says, and leads the way into his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of random facts about this chapter:
> 
> 1\. About the food Hal is cooking - I'm a blood donor and this is my go-to meal on a donation day, for the exact reason Hal is giving. Oh, and it's incredibly tasty as well.
> 
> 2\. For anyone who is interested - the film they are watching is "Woman In Black". Just because it's 2013 and that one was fairly recently out at the time. And it has a ~~Type 1~~ ghost in it. So, yeah.


	18. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Natasha’s back,' Hal says and is amused to see Dominic’s eyes widen at the mention of his house guest.
> 
> 'Did she say anything?'
> 
> 'She admired your love bite,' Hal says casually, loving the way Dominic’s big eyes widen even more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!

You seen the way  
When I hold you tight  
Asleep beside me  
There is a slope like an appetite we descend slowly  
And I fear my deep makeup  
The ache inside go away  
The vacant mind just relay  
Some explosion from the bright side

\- Interpol, “Breaker 1”

  
Dominic comes to a stop in the middle of his bedroom, turning around to Hal, who has entered the room behind him. Apart from Natasha, who has lately made it her role to be his own personal style coach, no one other than himself has ever entered this room, and even after everything they have done together, what Hal has done for him even just a few minutes ago, it feels strangely intimate to him now, standing here with Hal.

Hal seems to pick up on his hesitation and moves in closer, bringing both hands up to hold his face while he presses a firm kiss to his mouth before pulling away a fraction and whispering, “It’s okay.”

Emboldened by the action, as well as the after-effects of the rather magnificent orgasm Hal has just gifted him with, Dominic kisses him back hungrily, hands coming up to undo the buttons on his waistcoat, then his shirt, and in one swift movement he pushes both garments over Hal’s pale shoulders until they land in a pile on the floor. He pulls away far enough to let his eyes roam over Hal’s naked chest and then his hands follow, running over the smooth, cool skin, teasing at his nipples as Hal has been doing with him. Hal gasps as his fingers touch his nipples, and Dominic repeats the movement, watching the Type 2 squirm under his touch.

“Lie down,” he suddenly hears himself say, and his voice is deep and filled with something he has never heard in it before. Hal complies, moving backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and crawling onto it until his head hits the pillow and he is stretched out on the mattress, looking up at Dominic.

Dominic looks back at him for a long moment, at Hal Yorke lying half-naked in his bed, before he feels an unyielding pull to be closer and he crawls forward on all fours, straddling Hal’s waist and leaning down to capture his lips again in a fierce kiss. His mouth soon moves down from Hal’s lips to his jaw, and he feels the rough stubble under his lips for a moment before moving further down, placing feathery kisses to the soft skin underneath Hal’s earlobe, then down his neck, pausing for a long moment at the spot where his pulse point would have been, had he had a pulse, placing gentle kisses to the skin, making Hal shiver underneath him. His lips move down to Hal’s shoulder, across one collarbone, then the other, and back to the centre of his chest, as if he is trying to map out the perfect body underneath him with his mouth. He moves down Hal’s sternum, then lets the tip of his tongue come out to give an experimental lick at his right nipple. Hal spasms slightly under him, letting out the most delicious little whimper, and Dominic repeats the movement, eliciting the same response. He kisses a wet trail across Hal’s chest to the other nipple and repeats the same movement there, and Hal’s whimpers are getting more desperate with every flick of his tongue. It feels incredible, that he is the one making Hal sound like that.

As his mouth is making its slow way down Hal’s toned stomach, his hands are finding their way to his belt buckle, undoing it before opening his trousers, and Hal lifts his hips slightly to allow him to pull his trousers and boxers down in one swift movement. With his tongue lightly teasing at Hal’s navel, his hand circles around his erection, and Hal bucks his hips involuntarily, letting out a loud moan.

Dominic is slightly startled by the almost violent response and lifts his head up, looking up at Hal’s face.

“Don’t stop,” Hal chokes out, “please.”

Dominic closes his hand around Hal’s cock again as his mouth comes back down on his right nipple, gently sucking, eliciting another whimper from Hal. His hand starts moving up and down the hard length, and while this is all still very new to him, he doesn’t feel the same hesitation he felt the last time he did this, and he quickly builds up a rhythm that, combined with his continued teasing and sucking at his nipples, has Hal writhing and bucking and whimpering underneath him.

“Dominic,” Hal gasps out, “Oh God, please, keep going.”

“I have no intention of stopping,” Dominic says and goes back to teasing his nipple, thumb coming up to the head of Hal’s cock to spread some of the pre-come gathering there. He is getting close, he can feel it, he won’t be able to hold on much longer. He moves his mouth back up to Hal’s neck, remembering how he responded to the kiss there earlier, and brings his lips down to suck at the soft skin, lightly at first, then more firmly, and he hears Hal falling apart under him as he whimpers and moans, hands at the back of his head, holding him in place. Dominic knows better than to use his teeth, but he continues sucking on Hal’s neck as if he were trying to make it bruise—

_Can Type 2s bruise? It’s certainly worth investigating…_

—and when the tip of his tongue comes out to lightly lick at the sensitive skin, Hal groans and bucks up into his hand one more time before spilling his load over Dominic’s hand.

Dominic lets go of him and reaches up to the bedside table to grab a couple of tissues, cleaning himself and Hal up before the sticky mess has a chance to dry. Hal is lying on the bed, spent and boneless and breathing heavy, and when Dominic lies down next to him he turns his head and looks at him with that amazing expression in his eyes again, the one he has only seen there once before, like all the walls he has built up in his mind have been stripped away, leaving just… Hal. He looks so incredibly young, then. It takes Dominic’s breath away.

They lie like this for a long moment, just looking at each other. After a few minutes, Dominic pulls away slightly to strip off his open shirt and trousers, hesitating a moment before taking off his briefs, as well. He feels Hal’s eyes on him, but doesn’t shy away, instead climbs back into bed and lies down next to Hal, who wordlessly holds out his arm to allow Dominic to cuddle up to him. He never pictured himself as the cuddling type. But once again, the usual rules don’t seem to apply where a certain Hal Yorke is concerned.

***

Dominic opens his eyes and is immediately greeted by Hal’s face on the pillow next to him. They are lying so close that their noses are almost touching, and their legs are tangled up together under the sheets.

Dominic pulls back a few inches and studies Hal’s face for a long moment. He is lying perfectly still, there is no air escaping his slightly parted lips and no sign of the slow rise and fall of his chest as the Type 2 has obviously stopped breathing in his sleep. Dominic knows from previous experience that, should he place his hand on Hal's chest, there would be no discernible heartbeat.

He knows he should be appalled and disconcerted by these observations, but he finds, in this moment, that he isn’t actually feeling any of those things. Instead he marvels at the fact that this beautiful creature in front of him has been around, unchanged, since the early sixteenth century. It makes his head spin to think that this very same Hal was alive in Tudor times, and he suddenly wonders if his mother had indeed named him after the erstwhile Tudor king.

Dominic frowns as the thought of Hal’s mother brings with it some much darker thoughts. Hal has mentioned to him a couple of times now that he was born and raised in a brothel in Southwark, living there until he ran away to sea age twenty. Dominic can’t help but try and picture what growing up must have been like for Hal, what kind of childhood would have driven him to a point where he felt like he had no choice but to not only leave London, but leave the country altogether and make a new start in some faraway land.

Then he remembers a snippet of something Hal said last night and his frown deepens. It was hard for him to concentrate at the time, but he thinks he remembers enough to know that Hal probably didn’t mean to say it, that the combination of wine and blood had loosened his tongue and made him say something he may regret if he remembered it the next day. Dominic can’t help but wonder if Hal actually meant what he thinks he meant, and if so, he is not entirely sure how that makes him feel. There is a part of him that wants to confront Hal about it, but then again, what good would it do? Whatever happened, happened five hundred years ago. He should really let it go.

Looking back at the sleeping Hal next to him, in _his_ bed, he feels a smile slowly forming on his lips, and he leans over to place a feather light kiss on the Type 2’s slightly parted lips. Almost immediately, Hal’s eyes fly open, and Dominic is pleased that they are once again clear and alert. As much as he enjoyed Hal in his blood-drunk state the previous night, it is good to have sane and sensible Hal back all the same.

“Good morning,” Hal says, voice deep and content, and a hand comes up to brush against side of Dominic’s face before he leans in for another kiss.

“Morning,” Dominic replies against his boyfriend’s mouth, feeling Hal’s breath mingle with his own now that he has woken up. “You stopped breathing in your sleep,” he says, and feels Hal tense ever so slightly next to him. He quickly brings his own hand up to caress Hal’s face. “I don’t mind,” he says, and he can feel Hal relax almost immediately. “Just an observation.”

“Yes, I do that, sometimes. It usually means that I’m particularly relaxed.”

Dominic smiles. “Had a good night’s sleep then?”

Hal returns the smile, slow and tranquil, and says, “Yes. Best I’ve had for a long time, actually. What about you?”

Dominic nods. “Me too.”

They lie in silence for a long moment, just enjoying each other’s closeness, before Hal speaks up again. “Are you hungry?”

Dominic can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Have you still not fed me enough?”

Hal looks indignant for a moment, but Dominic can tell by the way the corners of his mouth are curving up that he is not completely serious. “It’s not all about _feeding_ you. You’re not _cattle_.”

“Well,” says Dominic dryly, “that’s good to know.”

Hal sighs. “Is this still about the iron?”

“Maybe. A bit.” He can’t help but still feel a little bit irritated about the whole affair, even though he knows Hal didn’t mean anything bad by it.

Hal rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. “Here I am offering to make you breakfast, and all you can do is complain.”

Dominic lifts himself up on one elbow and looks into Hal’s face, a small frown playing on his face. He didn’t mean to upset Hal. When he looks into Hal’s eyes, however, he can see them twinkling, and his lips curving into a small smile. He leans down to kiss those full, pink lips, and Hal eagerly kisses him back.

“I would love it if you made me breakfast,” Dominic says finally, and he is delighted at the bright smile that breaks out on Hal’s face.

“Toast okay?” he asks as he pulls away, and Dominic’s eyes are drawn to Hal's gorgeous body as he walks around the bedroom, picking up his discarded clothes and putting them back on. After a long moment, Hal comes to stand in front of the bed, buttoning up his shirt, and raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Oh, er, yes, toast sounds great,” Dominic says, blushing slightly for having been caught staring.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” says Hal and disappears through the door.

***

“Morning Hal,” Natasha’s voice reaches him before he can even see her sitting on one of the kitchen counters, eating a slice of toast. “Have a good night?” Her face is nearly splitting in two with the enormous smile she is giving him as she takes in his dishevelled form. His hair must be sticking up in all directions, he reckons, and his shirt and trousers are rumpled from having been lying on the floor all night.

“Very good, thank you,” he says, trying to sound as casual as possible in a doomed attempt to preserve his dignity.

“Nice love bite,” she says then, and Hal freezes. For the first time in a long time, he wishes he could look at himself in the mirror.

“Yeah, erm…”

“Didn’t picture Dominic as being so… assertive,” Natasha says with a grin, and Hal raises his eyebrows at her.

“You have met him before, haven’t you?”

She bites her lip. “Guess you have a point. I just thought…” she trails off as Hal turns away from her and busies himself with filling up the kettle and flicking it on.

“I take it all was okay at the hotel last night?” Hal asks, keen to change the subject. He takes two slices of bread and puts them in the toaster.

“Yeah, all good. Hatch slept through most of the night, only got up a couple of times to use the bathroom. Other than that, nothing at all happened really.”

He nods at her thoughtfully. “Cameras all still in place?”

She nods. “Yep.”

“Good.” Hal takes two mugs from the draining board and opens the cupboard he remembers Dominic keeps the tea in, looking at his rather impressive collection.

“Darjeeling,” Natasha pipes up as his hand hovers over the English Breakfast. “It’s his favourite.”

Hal smiles and picks up a bag of Darjeeling instead, dropping it into Dominic’s cup before picking his own and pouring the boiling water over both of them. The toast is done as well, and Hal quickly butters it and places the plate on a tray along with their two mugs and a variety of spreads.

He can hear Natasha quietly snicker behind him as he leaves the kitchen and makes his way back to the bedroom, where Dominic is lounging against the head board of the bed, still naked under the covers, Hal notices appreciatively.

Dominic looks back at him with an intense expression on his face, and it makes tiny tendrils of hunger stir in him for a brief moment. He pushes the feeling down, gives Dominic a smile as he puts the tray down on the bed and climbs back under the covers next to him.

“Natasha’s back,” Hal says and is amused to see Dominic’s eyes widen at the mention of his house guest.

“Did she say anything?”

“She admired your love bite,” Hal says casually, loving the way Dominic’s big eyes widen even more.

“Oh God,” he groans, his eyes fixed on the side of Hal’s neck. “I guess you can bruise after all,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

“Of course we can bruise. What was that, some kind of experiment of yours?” He raises his eyebrows.

Dominic has the decency to blush, at least. “Perhaps, just a little bit. It was first and foremost to give you pleasure.”

“And it most certainly did,” says Hal, then adds, “How bad is it?”

Dominic looks at him for a moment before his forehead creases and he says, “Of course, you can’t see it.” Hal nods. “Erm, yes, it’s… sizeable.”

“Wonderful,” Hal says sarcastically, but he doesn’t really mean it.

Dominic swallows nervously and looks down, the blush still not leaving his face. Hal thinks it’s actually quite adorable the way Dominic squirms at the thought of Natasha knowing what they got up to last night. Not all of it, obviously, he thinks as his eyes fall on the mark he left on the side of Dominic’s neck, and he can feel those little flickers of hunger stir again at the bottom of his stomach. He leans back slightly, biting the inside of his lip, and gestures to the tray. “Food’s getting cold,” he says, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.

Dominic’s eyes go from the single plate on the tray to Hal, his expression questioning. “You not having anything?”

Hal shakes his head, looking away. “I’m not hungry.”

Dominic looks like he is about to argue for a second, but then closes his mouth and nods. “Okay.”

Hal smiles. Alex asked why Dominic of all people. He didn’t really know what to say, then, but suddenly, sitting here with the blond man, who is taking an appreciative sip of tea and giving him a bright, genuine smile, he understands. With Dominic, he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to try to be someone he is not, doesn’t have to pass as human. Dominic accepts his nature in a way that no other human ever has. With him, it seems so easy to just be himself, more than he could ever be with Alex, more, even, than he can be with Tom. He has seen it in his friend’s eyes, the cautious, judgemental looks he has been giving him ever since Hal admitted to him about the blood.

They accept him as long as he denies his true nature. Dominic, as conflicted as he might be about it, actually wants him _because_ of it.

“What?” Dominic’s soft voice intrudes his thoughts. He looks up to see blue eyes watching him, eyebrows slightly drawn.

Hal smiles. “Nothing,” he says and leans close to steal a kiss in between Dominic eating mouthfuls of toast. “Just thinking about you.”

Dominic huffs a laugh. “Thinking about me? I’m right here.”

“I know, I just… never mind.” He drops his eyes to his lap, and Dominic nods and goes back to his toast.

They sit in silence for a long moment, Dominic finishing his toast, Hal sipping his tea, sitting so close that their shoulders are touching and stealing glances at each other. At one point Hal’s hand comes up to cup Dominic’s head and he leans forward to kiss his lips. Dominic responds instantly, pushing back against him, parting his lips to deepen the kiss.

“Mmmh,” he says when he finally pulls away. “I like kissing you.”

“I may have noticed,” Hal says with a small smile.

They finish their tea and Hal places the tray on one of the bedside tables before pushing Dominic down against the pillow, leaning over him and claiming his mouth once more.

They kiss for a long moment, open-mouthed and hungry, tongues battling against each other until both of them are breathing heavily when Hal pulls away, looking down at the blond man. His eyes wander down to Dominic’s neck, but he is careful not to linger on the bite marks and lets his gaze trail down to his chest instead.

“What’s the story behind this?” he asks, running the tip of his index finger lightly over the silver cross pendant on Dominic’s chest.

Dominic gives him a meaningful look. “It’s a cross, Hal. It’s supposed to protect me from Type 2s.”

Hal raises his eyebrows at him with a smirk. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Hal’s fingertips wander down the centre of his chest, then his stomach, the most feather light of touches, eliciting an involuntary gasp from Dominic.

“How’s that working out for you?”

Dominic arches his back into the touch and Hal watches, enraptured, the effect he is having on the man.

“Yes, well,” Dominic chokes out, “this wasn’t exactly what my grandmother had in mind when she gave it to me.”

“Mmmh, I would think not,” Hal agrees, the corners of his mouth curving up as his hand wanders further down, over Dominic’s slim hip and just brushing the edge of the light covering of blond hair at the man’s crotch. Dominic lets out a high-pitched whine as he comes tantalisingly close to his twitching cock, but he moves further down still and runs the tips of his fingers against the sensitive skin on Dominic’s inner thighs, making little patterns and circles on the soft skin. He can feel the femoral artery under his sensitive fingertips, pulsing in time with Dominic’s too fast heartbeat, and is suddenly overcome with the urge to taste it, to sink his teeth into the soft white flesh…

He swallows hard, finds that he has squeezed his eyes shut, opens them to see Dominic watching him, bathed in bright light, which makes his eyes look so much bluer than should be humanly possible, and he knows that his own eyes have shifted to black.

“Hal?” Dominic’s voice is slightly strangled and tinged with fear, and Hal quickly shuts his eyes again, concentrates on counting his breaths, starts reciting poetry in his head, slowly regains his composure. After a long moment, he opens his eyes again and is relieved to see that the colours in the room have gone back to normal, and he feels the slight itch in his gums that tells him that his fangs have retracted.

His eyes find Dominic’s, who is still watching him, eyes wide and chest heaving, but the fear has gone from his face. “Don’t stop, please,” he says, gaze dropping to Hal’s hand still resting on Dominic’s thigh.

Hal’s eyes follow his, and he shifts his hand, fingers ghosting along the impossibly soft skin at the top of his thigh, then coming up again to brush through the coarse hair at his crotch, and the very tip of his index finger comes into contact with Dominic’s growing erection. Dominic lets out a strangled moan at the touch, shifting slightly to push himself into Hal’s hand, and Hal complies, closing his hand around the hard length and starting to move up and down, slowly at first, eliciting delicious little moans and whimpers from his human, before he speeds up his movements and feels Dominic twitch and quiver underneath him. His other hand moves down to cup Dominic’s balls, lightly fondling and massaging the sensitive flesh.

“Oh God, Hal,” Dominic moans. His own hands fling out wildly, one grabbing the sheets while the other one lands on Hal’s shoulder, unconsciously pulling him closer. Remembering Dominic’s reaction to him last night, Hal dips his head down and, never taking his hand off of Dominic’s erection, flicks his tongue over the slit. Dominic all but screams out, and Hal absently wonders how thin the walls are in this flat, and whether Natasha can hear them across the hall. Deciding that he really couldn’t care less right now, he takes the tip of Dominic’s cock into his mouth, still continuing his hand’s movement up and down his length.

He can feel his own erection press against the fabric of his grey trousers, and he quickly reaches down to undo the button and zip, pushing them down just far enough so he can take himself in his hand, matching the quick up-down movement of his other hand on Dominic. It doesn’t take long for Dominic’s cock to twitch in preparation for his release, and with a broken cry of “Hal” he comes into Hal’s mouth. Hal himself isn’t far behind, and as he swallows down spurts of Dominic’s come, lightly caressing his cock with his tongue to tease out the last drops of his release, he feels himself tighten and come over his own hand with a groan.

He lets Dominic’s cock drop from his mouth and rests his head on his bony hip for a long moment, and he can feel Dominic’s hand coursing through his sweat-damp hair.

“That was amazing,” Dominic says finally, and then, “Come up here.” It’s not a command as much as a request, his voice all soft and breathless and serene. Hal shifts up to lay his head on the pillow next to Dominic, and the blond man leans in and gives him a slow, languid kiss, arms coming around his waist, pulling him close. He kisses back, relishes the feel of Dominic’s lips on his own, so soft and so, so warm. Alive.

 _I really like kissing you, too,_ he thinks, allowing the warm, fuzzy feeling that he hasn’t felt for so many years to wash over him.

“We should probably get up,” Dominic says after a long moment. “I could do with a shower.”

Hal lifts his head at that and looks at him with renewed interest, but Dominic lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“No,” he says firmly, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “God, you’re insatiable.”

“I’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” Hal points out, but Dominic pulls away and sits up, looking back at him with a slight frown playing on his face.

“You may be twenty-four forever, but some of us need a little bit of time to recover,” he says finally with a hint of indignance in his voice, and Hal has to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from grinning.

After they have both showered – separately – and dressed, Hal announces that he should probably make his way back to Barry, since it is his turn to review the surveillance footage from last night.

“How’s that been going?” Dominic asks, and Hal shrugs.

“Nothing at all out of the ordinary. It just appears to be hours upon hours of an old man in his room, playing chess against himself, reading, sleeping . To be honest, I’m not sure we will get anywhere with it.”

Dominic looks thoughtful for a moment, but then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Let’s keep going with it. He will slip up eventually, I am certain.”

Hal huffs out a mirthless laugh. “I wish I had your confidence. But all right, we’ll keep going for now.”

Dominic opens the bedroom door and they step out into the hallway, trying to be quiet as to not wake Natasha, who is asleep on the sofa in the living room. At least she had announced as much when she bumped into Hal as he emerged from the bathroom, giving him a knowing smirk and a wink.

“Perhaps I should come around to have a look at the footage sometime this week,” Dominic says quietly when they reach the front door. His eyes come up to look into Hal’s, and his hands reach out to lightly brush over the front of his suit jacket.

The thought of Dominic coming to Honolulu Heights brings back memories of his conversation with Tom and Alex the other day, and he blurts out, “They know. About us.” At Dominic’s quizzical look, he adds, “Tom and Alex.”

“Oh,” says Dominic, his face flicking rapidly from surprise to apprehension. “Did you… tell them?”

Hal nods, looking sheepish. “I kind of had to. Long story. It’s all right though, they’re okay with it. Well, Tom is taking it better than Alex, but then that’s understandable.”

Dominic nods. “Alex likes you,” he says in a way that is not a question.

Hal sighs. “It would seem that way, yes. But she acknowledges that I’m with someone else now. She just needs a little time to accept that it’s you.”

“Yes, well,” Dominic says, then pauses. “Thursday a good time?”

“Thursday sounds like an excellent time,” Hal says, smiling. Dominic appears to have a very good understanding by now of how frequently he needs to feed, and it seems like they are falling into some kind of routine around it.

“Good,” says Dominic, returning his smile and leaning in to give him a chaste peck on the lips. “See you Thursday.”

Hal leans down to press his lips against Dominic’s again, harder, more insistent, and they share one more lingering kiss. “I look forward to it,” he says against his lips when he draws back, then opens the door and steps out onto the landing.

The monster in him reels with the still fresh blood in his veins and the promise of more in only a few short days. Yes, he is very much looking forward to it.


	19. Red Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Red,' Dominic breathes. 'His eyes are red.' He turns back around to Hal. 'Have you ever come across red eyes before?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I remember getting very excited about writing the Dominic & Alex scene in the second part of this chapter. The two of them were just begging me to have some time alone to have a good long chat, and this is the result.
> 
> Enjoy!

And you, you knew the hand of the devil  
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth  
Sharing different heartbeats  
In one night

\- José González, “Heartbeats”

  
Despite his words of confidence to Dominic the other day, come Thursday Hal is a bundle of nerves as he sits at the table by the window in the living room, building a domino spiral. It’s only a matter of minutes now until Dominic’s silver Lexus will pull up in front of the house and the man will come in to see him under Alex and Tom’s watchful eyes.

“Do you even still need to do that?” Tom says as he walks into the room from the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand, and drops down on the sofa, hand reaching for the TV remote. There is a coldness in his voice that makes Hal’s throat constrict.

“I like the routine,” he says, and Tom snorts.

“Yeah, right.”

“Tom.” He gives the werewolf a warning glare. One of these days Alex is going to walk in on one of these conversations, and then what? He doesn’t think he could cope with the hurt and disappointment in his other friend’s eyes if she ever found out about him drinking blood again. All the more risky to invite Dominic over to their house, he knows, but they have managed to do it once before. They just have to be extra careful.

Tom is opening his mouth, about to retort, when there is a careful knock at the door. Hal has come to recognise his knock, he realises fondly. He jumps up from the table, half-finished domino spiral lying forgotten, and goes to open the door.

It’s an exceptionally cold day for late March, with icy winds coming in from the coast and a promise of snow in the air, and Dominic is wrapped up in his woolly grey coat and a matching scarf, his cheeks and nose red from the chill. Hal thinks he looks rather adorable.

“Hey,” Hal greets him as he steps into the narrow hallway.

“Hey,” Dominic replies, a twinkle in his eyes, and Hal can feel Alex materialising at the bottom of the stairs behind him just as Dominic leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Alex says loudly, and Hal can’t help the laugh that bursts forward out of his mouth and against Dominic’s.

Dominic gives him a small, nervous smile. “What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around him, then appears to catch on and, rather impressively, snakes one arm around Hal’s waist before he looks over to the staircase and says, “Hi, Alex.”

Alex’s eyebrows almost reach her hairline as she looks between Dominic’s possessive arm around Hal’s waist, which, he has to admit, makes his insides melt a little with affection, and the smiles on both men’s faces, Dominic’s smug, Hal’s surprised and a little bit love-struck.

“I don’t even know what to say right now,” Alex says, and Hal chuckles.

“‘Hello’ would be customary, I believe,” he says, and Dominic gives him another curious look.

“What did she say?”

Turning towards Dominic, Hal quickly suggests, “Maybe you should get your phone out,” and a few short moments later the connection has been established.

“Can I just state for the record that I don’t think this relationship is a good idea,” Alex says, and Dominic glares in her general direction.

“You would say that,” he mutters, and Hal chokes out a surprised little laugh.

Alex narrows her eyes at him, a gesture that is, of course, completely lost on Dominic. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Dominic takes a quick look at Hal, taking in his surprised expression, and lets out a loud sigh. “Nothing. Never mind. Warning duly noted,” he says with another quick look at Hal and a nod towards Alex and steps through to the living room, taking off his heavy coat and putting it up on the coat rack.

Tom is still sitting on the sofa, Hal notices, watching what looks like a hospital drama. As they come in, he turns around to look at the new arrival.

“Hello again, Tom,” Dominic says, and Tom frowns at him.

Tom regards Dominic for a long moment before he speaks. “I know you’re supposed to be Hal’s boyfriend an’ all, and I don’t wanna offend ya, so I’ll try and be civil. But that don’t mean I like ya.”

Dominic manages a small, strained smile and replies, “I think that’s good enough for now, Tom. Thank you.”

With introductions seemingly out of the way, Tom turns back to the TV and Hal, Dominic and Alex move through to the back of the living room, where the surveillance equipment is still set up in front of the Hawaiian mural.

 _Well,_ thinks Hal. _That certainly could have gone worse._

“May I?” Dominic asks with a nod towards the table, and Hal gives a small nod.

“Of course.”

Hal watches as Dominic settles himself in front of the monitor and immediately checks the position of all four cameras, takes in the features of the room, which is empty at the moment, with Captain Hatch most likely sitting in the foyer reading the paper or complaining to the poor receptionist about God knows what.

Hal comes up behind Dominic and lets one of his hands rest on the back of his neck, fingers lightly caressing the skin above the collar of his black shirt, and he can feel the small shiver that runs through Dominic just as he can feel Alex’s eyes burning into him. He doesn’t remove his hand.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, Dominic asks, “So you’re saying there has been absolutely nothing noteworthy for the last... seven days of surveillance?” His hand is moving across the controls, and the picture on the screen flickers and changes, the date stamp in the corner going back to Thursday 14th March – the day Natasha installed the cameras.

“Nothing we have seen, no,” Alex says, eyes still fixed on Hal’s hand, which is now lying on Dominic’s shoulder, thumb rubbing idle circles into his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

The screen is now only showing one camera angle, going into the room from somewhere close to the door – the camera under the book rack. The other four windows are black. Nothing is moving in the room, but the sound of a person moving around in a blind corner is audible through the speakers. A moment later, a second camera comes to life, and now Natasha is visible, walking into the centre of the room and looking around for a moment before moving over to the floor lamp, and finally the armchair in the corner.

Dominic’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees Captain Hatch enter the room and watches the short conversation that follows. His brow is furrowed when he turns around to face Hal, making Hal’s hand fall away from his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” The tone of his voice is more worried than angry, Hal notices, and he meets his eyes with a grave expression in his own.

“She asked me specifically not to.”

Dominic’s frown deepens. “But this is important, Hal. She almost got caught. I should have been informed of this straight away.”

“It’s like Hal said,” Alex speaks up. “She expressly asked him not to, so he didn’t. No need to bite his head off.”

Dominic whips around to where he can probably feel Alex’s presence – he seems to be getting better at that – and directs his frown at her instead. “You don’t understand, Alex, this is essential. We need to all work together if we want to have any chance of succeeding.”

“We need to be able to trust each other,” Hal says, absently quoting Natasha’s words to him a week ago.

“Exactly,” agrees Dominic, giving him a small smile, which he returns. He holds Dominic’s gaze for a long time, longer, perhaps, than either of them is aware of, and he realises that he could quite easily lose himself in those blue depths, when Alex loudly clears her throat next to them.

“Really, guys? We have a job to do here.” Hal tears his eyes away, but not before he sees the delicious influx of blood into Dominic’s cheeks.

The man turns back to the screen and clicks another button to make the footage run at twice the normal speed, scanning along as Captain Hatch is laying his playing cards out on the chess table in the middle of the room. There is nothing out of the ordinary for a good few minutes.

“Are you going to look at _everything_?” Alex asks incredulously, as Dominic doesn’t seem to give any indication that he is going to stop watching or skip to a later point in the footage.

“The devil is in the detail, Alex. There is no point in this if you don’t review every moment of it,” he says tersely. “I very much hope that is what you have been doing for the last week, or I’m going to have a long night ahead of me.”

Hal gives Alex a slightly worried look, knowing that that is very much _not_ what they have been doing. Neither him nor Alex thought that there was any point in watching hours upon hours of Captain Hatch sleeping, and Tom has chosen not to get involved in all of this at all, thinking it pretty pointless. Hal is secretly starting to agree with him.

Although, he has to admit that watching his boyfriend poring over the CCTV footage like a child watching his favourite TV show does certainly have its perks.

“Err…” Alex starts, looking to Hal for help.

“We may not have looked at _everything_ in detail,” he admits, sounding a bit sheepish.

Dominic turns back around to him, a stern expression on his face. “Hal, are you serious?”

Hal’s brow furrows. “Look, I’m sorry, we’ll do b—”

But he never gets to finish the sentence as Alex cuts in with a high-pitched cry of “Guys!”

Both of them whip around to her, then to the screen, where they come face to face with a still image of Captain Hatch looking directly into one of the cameras, and his eyes are—

“Red,” Dominic breathes. “His eyes are red.” He turns back around to Hal. “Have you ever come across red eyes before?”

Hal feels his breath catch in his throat. He _has_ seen those eyes before. Alex and Dominic are both staring at him, and his eyes flicker back and forth between them. “Once,” he says after a long pause.

Dominic and Alex are still looking at him, expectantly, and when he doesn’t continue, Dominic speaks up, “Well? What was it?”

Hal clears his throat, swallows. It can’t be. Surely not, he must be mistaken. Perhaps all demons’ eyes are red, and they are already expecting him to be a demon, aren’t they? It doesn’t have to mean anything.

“What was it, Hal?” Alex asks now, and he looks back up at them. Their eyes are wide and anxious, almost a perfect mirror image of each other, as they await his response.

“It was the Devil.”

A long silence follows his admission, in which Dominic just gapes at him with shock written on his face, until Alex barks out a loud, sharp laugh.

“The Devil?” she asks, disbelief dripping from her voice. “As in, the actual Devil?”

“Yes, Alex, the Devil.”

“When was this?” Dominic asks faintly. “How did you… when was this?”

“1918.”

“The end of the vampire–werewolf war,” Dominic chimes in, and Hal nods.

“The what?” Alex asks, obviously lost, so Hal starts to explain.

“There was a war between the werewolves and the vampires. It lasted for seven years, from 1911 to 1918.”

“There are no detailed records of the outcome of the war, or why you decided to call a ceasefire,” Dominic says, eyebrows raised at Hal.

“There are no records, because there were never any formal negotiations,” Hal explains. “It was all very… hush-hush. Need to know only between the three parties involved.”

“Three parties?” Alex asks. “I thought you said it was a war between the werewolves and the vampires. Who was the third party?”

“A ghost,” says Hal. “When we realised that the Devil had been playing us against each other, we sought the help of a powerful ghost, a necromancer called Emil Parsons. He used his powers to summon the Devil, and we… performed a ritual to trap him in a human vessel.”

“You _what_?” Alex exclaims.

“You were going to destroy him?” Dominic asks. Hal nods, avoiding his gaze. “What happened?”

Hal swallows, eyes on the floor. He can’t tell them. Can’t tell them that it’s his fault the Devil is probably still at large somewhere in the world, trapped in an old man’s body.

_An old man’s body._

He squeezes his eyes tightly shut. No, it can’t be.

“Hal?” Dominic says, and a hand reaches out to grab his own. Hal opens his eyes, stares at their joint hands for a long moment.

“Something went wrong,” he says, quietly. “With the ritual. It didn’t work like it was supposed to. The Devil escaped.”

“You mean he fled the human vessel?” Dominic asks.

Hal looks up, meets his eyes. “No, he was trapped. He escaped while still possessing the human body.”

There is another long silence following his words. He looks deeply into Dominic’s blue eyes, trying to convey a silent apology, even though the man doesn’t even know what he is apologising for.

“So, you mean… what? That Captain Hatch is the Devil?” They both turn around at Alex’s words, and Hal can hear Tom gasping behind him. He didn’t even notice their friend come over. He must have heard the commotion and come to see what’s going on.

Hal gives a short, sharp nod, looking between his friends. “There is that possibility. Yes.”

“Fuck,” Alex says, and Hal has to admit that he couldn’t have put it better himself.

“What do we do now, then?” Tom pipes up behind them. All three of them turn to look at their friend, who stands there with his eyebrows drawn together, looking at Hal expectantly like this is just another foe they have to slay together. Hal would laugh if it wasn’t so serious.

“What did the ritual involve?” Dominic asks, and of course he would. Always the pragmatist, even when faced with the Devil himself.

Hal sighs. “I don’t remember the details. Emil was the one who knew all of that, and it was almost a hundred years ago.” _And I fucked it up, because I didn’t want to die,_ is what he doesn’t say. _And I won’t tell you the truth, because I don’t want any of you to die either._ “But if I understand what happened correctly,” he quickly moves on, “he will be trapped in that body until he manages to recharge his powers.”

“How would he do that?” asks Alex.

“By feeding on the conflict between werewolves and vampires.”

Tom nods. “So we have to make sure he don’t have nowt to feed on then. There ain't no other werewolves or vampires ‘round here, is there? We just have to make sure we unite against him, like.”

Hal gives his friend a small smile. “That sounds like an excellent plan to me.” His eyes meet Tom’s briefly, and there is a silent message there. _Make sure you don’t give me a reason to change my mind,_ Tom is telling him, and he does his best to reply, _I won’t._ There is the tiniest nod of Tom’s head, which he returns.

Looking back at Dominic, he sees that the man has been watching the silent exchange, and is now looking at Hal with a slight frown, but he can see something else in his eyes as well, something that looks very much like an invitation.

And oh, is he going to take it.

***

Dominic stares up at the ceiling in Hal’s room, his boyfriend’s arm thrown around his waist and head buried in the crook of Dominic’s neck, nose pressing into the delicate skin around two fresh puncture marks.

After the unfortunate revelation, Hal and Dominic disappeared into Hal’s room for a long time, under what pretence, exactly, he isn’t even sure, and Hal latched onto his neck like a dying man, but it didn’t feel sensual, didn’t spark arousal like it usually does. It was a means to an end, a necessity, and afterwards they sat for a long time just holding each other on Hal’s small leather sofa, exchanging occasional kisses, brushes of hands, but the heat wasn’t there, had been swallowed up by the sheer weight of the realisation of what they would be facing.

Dominic dressed the wound, buttoned up his shirt, made his way back downstairs to continue looking at the footage for the rest of the evening, only interrupted once by an offer of dinner from Tom, and again for a much needed cup of tea that suddenly appeared in front of him courtesy of Alex, but mostly the three housemates left him to his work, too stunned by the news to do anything else.

He crawled into bed next to Hal in the early hours of the morning after deciding that it was too late and he was too tired to drive all the way back to Cardiff. The Type 2 had already been asleep, but he stirred and trained tired hazel eyes on Dominic when he felt his presence next to him. Still, there was no passion, no sex. Just falling asleep in each other’s arms.

It’s quarter to four in the morning now, and Dominic is lying awake, no longer able to ignore the nervous energy that has been thrumming through his body ever since they found out the truth about Captain Hatch. He wants to get to the bottom of this, he wants to finish reviewing the footage, and find the details of that bloody ritual. He wishes he still had access to the Archive files, and wonders for a long moment if Special Branch would allow him temporary access if he explained the urgency of the situation to them.

_Of course they won’t. Who are you kidding?_

With a deep sigh, Dominic disentangles himself from Hal, careful not to wake him, and gets out of bed. He looks around for a moment in the near-darkness of the room to find his shirt and trousers, pulls on his trousers, picks up a piece of black fabric from the couch, realises too late that it is Hal’s.

He lifts the black long-sleeved Henley shirt up to his face, inhales the scent that is so very much Hal, and in a split-second decision pulls the shirt over his head. He does up the buttons so that it just about covers the bite marks before taking one last look at the still sleeping Hal on the bed – _God, he’s beautiful_ – and quietly letting himself out of the room, along the narrow corridor and down the stairs.

The house is deadly quiet, with Tom probably also asleep in his room and no other sounds invading the silence apart from the low whirring of the fridge in the kitchen and the faint noise of cars somewhere in the distance. Dominic switches the light on in the living room and walks over to the surveillance kit, then decides that he could do with a cup of tea. He enters the kitchen through the swinging doors and looks around him to locate the kettle when the jarring sound of his phone ringing in his pocket cuts into the silence.

Dominic pulls the device from his pocket, has a curious look at the screen. Who would be calling him at this time of night? The answer to the question comes quickly and is actually not all that surprising. He presses the call button, puts the phone on speaker and says, “Hi, Alex.”

He can feel her sitting at the kitchen table, so once he has flicked on the kettle, he walks over and has a seat across from her, facing in her general direction.

“Hey there,” she answers. “Can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “No. Too many things going around in my head, I guess.”

“Yeah. I know how you feel. Pretty big news, huh?”

He huffs out a small laugh. “Yes. Although we’re still not even sure if it’s even him. He could be… I don’t know, just any other demon.”

“Do you really believe that?” Alex asks, and he shakes his head.

“Of course not.”

There is a moment of silence, which is interrupted by the kettle coming to the boil, and Dominic gets up to make himself a cup of tea. He gets to the counter and realises he has no idea where the tea is kept, so he turns around to Alex, about to ask, when she comes to his rescue by dropping a bag into his waiting mug. It appears so suddenly that it actually makes him jump a bit.

“Thanks,” he says and pours the hot water into the mug. He stands at the counter for a moment, his back to Alex, stirring the tea bag around his mug to make it brew quicker. “I talked to him once, you know.” He has no idea why he is sharing this with her now, but his mouth opens again and he continues all the same. “He tried to… manipulate me, I suppose, to get me to plot with him against—” He turns around to her, only now remembering what Captain Hatch asked him to do, like the memory of it had been suppressed somehow, and his face falls at the realisation, “—against Hal and Tom.”

“What?” she asks, alarmed.

He carries his tea over to the table and sits down again across from her. He frowns. “I had forgotten that part of the conversation… almost like he didn’t want me to remember, after I…” He trails off, lost in thought, trying to relive that evening in his mind. His memory of the event is hazy, to say the least, but snippets of it are coming back to him.

“After you what?”

His head snaps up at Alex’s words. “After I turned him down.”

“Huh,” says Alex, and there is a short pause before she continues, “If he actually is the Devil, why would he allow you to turn him down?”

Good question, Dominic thinks. If Hatch has the power to talk people into committing suicide, convincing him to come up with a plan to get rid of Hal and Tom should have been child’s play. Why did he allow him to get away? He shrugs. “I’m really not sure.”

Then another snippet of a memory comes back to him, his thoughts when he decided to leave the room rather than continue the card game with the Captain. He thought about Hal, about the fact that he had saved his life and that he owed him, and perhaps just a little bit about the fact that he didn’t want to see him harmed, because… because he cared about him. Even then.

“He felt it,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else, but Alex picks up on it straight away.

“What do you mean?”

He looks up in her direction, a wry smile on his lips. “He must have felt my… affection for him. Perhaps that was what made him reconsider. Perhaps he decided I wasn’t worth the effort after all.”

Alex is quiet for a long moment after this, and Dominic takes a sip of his tea. “You actually care about him,” she finally says, as if the notion is too strange to be believed.

“Of course I do,” he says. It is difficult now to imagine a time before he started caring about Hal. “Even though back then I was trying very much not to.”

“Because he’s a vampire?” Alex asks.

“For many reasons,” he answers, looking down at his tea.

“I thought you hated vampires,” she says then.

“Not all of them, apparently,” he replies tersely, and even though he can’t see her, he can feel her eyes on him.

There is another long silence, and Dominic once again busies himself with his tea, trying to ignore her gaze on him. “You hate yourself for liking him, don’t you?” she asks eventually.

Dominic’s head shoots up at her words. She’s pretty damn observant, he has to give her that. He swallows repeatedly and his mouth opens, but he has no idea how to reply to that.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. Although, knowing Hal I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows, anyway.”

He nods. “He does.”

“But he’s still with you regardless. Guess he must see something in you,” she says, and her tone is a little bit wistful.

 _I’m sorry, Alex,_ he thinks, and gives her a small smile. “Whatever it is, I’m grateful,” he says.

“Just be careful, all right?” Alex says then, and Dominic’s brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

Alex lets out a mirthless laugh. “Well, I went on a date with him once, and look where I ended up.”

Dominic is silent for a moment before replying, “I wasn’t aware of that. You mean he—”

“He didn’t kill me,” she says quickly. “But he did drink my blood. Look, all I’m saying is be careful. You of all people probably don’t need me to tell you this, but… being a human involved with a vampire is… dangerous.”

“I know,” he says, absently rubbing at his neck. Not for the first time he feels a wave of guilt for feeding Hal’s addiction, but her words also spark another thought, one that he has been stoically ignoring up until now. What if he does lose control at some point? Would he really be strong enough to fight him off? …Would he even want to? He gives her a slightly shaky smile and says, “I will be.”

They sit in silence again for a while, and again it’s Alex who ends it by letting out a very unladylike snort and saying, “You’re wearing his bloody shirt, aren’t you?”

Dominic can’t help the small embarrassed laugh that bursts forward from his lips. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“That’s cute,” she states, and he shoots an incredulous look in her direction. “What?” she asks, exasperatedly. “It is. I didn’t imagine the two of you would be so… well, cute.”

_I swear, if she says the word ‘cute’ one more time…_

A smile grows on Dominic’s face, and why is this happening, he meant to be stern and tell her off, and instead he is smiling like an idiot.

_Guess that’s what being in love is all about._

“So you really think the Devil let you escape him because you’ve got the hots for Hal?” Alex asks.

Trying his best to ignore her wording, he replies, “I honestly don’t know, Alex. I’m not exactly an expert on the Devil.”

Alex snorts again. “No. Maybe we can ask Hal about it.”

Dominic nods. “Maybe. Although from what he said it sounds like he’s not much of an expert either.” His thoughts return to his earlier idea. “If only we could…” he trails off, deciding that it is not something worth pursuing.

“Could what?” Alex asks.

He looks up in her direction, heaves a big sigh and says, “Could get our hands on the Archive files. They have all been taken to Special Branch, no chance for me to get access to them now.”

“I thought you said you’ve never come across the Devil before. What good would the Archive files do?” Alex asks.

Dominic sighs. “There might be something there, some clue that’s been overlooked before,” he explains. “Plus, it’s not like I know everything that’s ever been written in those files.” He gives the empty chair in front of him a small smile.

“I guess you guys have been around for a while,” says Alex, and his smile grows a little.

“Quite a while, yes. Which is why I think it would be helpful to get our hands on those files.”

There is a moment’s silence, in which Alex must ponder what he said, for the next thing that comes out of her mouth is, “I could do it.”

Dominic frowns. “Do what, exactly?”

“Get the Archive files,” she says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Well, not all of them, of course,” she continues before he even has a chance to react. “But if you give me an idea of which ones you want, I’m sure I can get a few for you.”

Dominic’s brow furrows. “Are you talking about _stealing_ them?” he asks, incredulous.

“Err, yeah, numpty,” she says, and he’s sure she is rolling her eyes at him. “Well, no, more like borrowing them, really. We can take them back when we’re done with them.” There is a short pause before she adds, “Where are they kept, anyway?”

Dominic can’t help but look a little bit smug when he replies, “Scotland Yard.”

“Urgh,” says Alex. “Right. Well, I broke into your Archive, didn’t I?” she says, laughing slightly. “How much worse can Scotland Yard be?”

“About that,” Dominic starts, then feels a blush creep into his face at the memory of what the Type 1 did when she broke into the Archive.

“Oh come on, you’re not still mad about that, are you?” Alex says in a disarming way.

Dominic gives her a stern look. “I have every right to be, Alex. The amount of damage control it took to disprove that horrible email you sent—”

Alex bursts out laughing. “I’d almost forgotten about that. I thought you were talking about the fish or the chairs or the superglued phone,” she says, “but you have to admit that that email was classy.”

“That’s not exactly the word I would have used for it, no,” Dominic says, frowning. “It’s interesting that both you and Hal seem to think this is hilarious. Have you _met_ the Home Secretary?”

Alex is obviously still trying to suppress giggles when she replies, “No, I have never had the pleasure.”

“Well, I have, and let me tell you it was not easy to save my professional face in light of what you had written. Fortunately it was only too obvious that a Type 1 had been involved somehow, so I ended up using it as an example of the dangers of your kind.” He sends a glare in her direction.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” she says then, and his eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t expected an apology.

“Don’t think just because you say sorry now, that means that you’re off the hook,” he says seriously, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You definitely owe me a favour, at least.”

“Like breaking into Scotland Yard for you?” she suggests without missing a beat.

He huffs. “Yes. I guess that would probably be enough of a repayment.”

There is a long silence after that, and Dominic actually checks his phone to make sure it is still connected.

“You’re not all that bad really, you know,” Alex finally says in a quiet voice.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dominic says and gives her a small smile. Truth is, as strange as it all is, he is quite enjoying talking to the young Type 1. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“You’re welcome, Blondie,” she says, and he scowls.


	20. Ahead of Schedule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With their discovery of Hatch’s identity, an unseasonable cold weather front moves in over South Wales, bringing with it heavy snowfall and icy roads, and Dominic ends up staying at Honolulu Heights for the next four days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for posting this a day late - unfortunately something got in the way and I haven't had a chance to post until now. The next chapter will still be up on Monday :)

Still living  
Sinking  
Feeding  
Twisting  
I'm living  
I'm breathing you in  
Breathing you in

\- Feeder, “Oxygen”

  
With their discovery of Hatch’s identity, an unseasonable cold weather front moves in over South Wales, bringing with it heavy snowfall and icy roads, and Dominic ends up staying at Honolulu Heights for the next four days.

He watches Hal go off for his early shifts at work in the morning, and then he watches him go about his routines of press-ups and cleaning and dominoes and Radio 4 while he himself spends hours over hours looking at video footage of what they now know to be the Devil in a frail and grumpy old man’s body. Sometimes, when even he gets bored with the monotony of his endeavour, he goes and uses what everyone seems to refer to as ‘Annie’s laptop’ to try and find out any tiny snippet of information that could get them closer to the details of the ritual. At night they fall into Hal’s narrow bed together, holding each other until they drift off to sleep. He wakes up in the middle of the night and steals his way down to the kitchen to share a chat and a cup of tea with Alex.

And through all this he sees the way Hal looks at him slowly change from tenderness and affection to a look of pure, naked hunger.

On the evening of the second day, Dominic comes into Hal’s room, tired and eyes aching from hours of looking at a screen, when the door suddenly slams shut behind him and Hal is on him, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he covers his mouth with his own, lips parted, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip. A small moan escapes Dominic’s mouth and is answered by a deep, almost animalistic growl from Hal. He is shirtless, Dominic notices, and a moment later his own shirt has been discarded on the floor and Hal pushes him back towards the bed.

“Hal?” he asks faintly against the Type 2’s mouth, but Hal is clearly not in a talking mood tonight. His insistent hands push Dominic back against the mattress and he climbs on top of him, straddling him. Dominic’s hands come up to Hal’s shoulders and he pushes back against him slightly before he has a chance to close the gap between them again. He takes a brief look at Hal’s face, sees the hunger, the need in his eyes, and he thinks he can see a quick flash of white between his slightly parted lips, but he can’t be sure because a moment later Hal’s mouth is back on his, tongue brushing against his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, allows him in, meets his tongue with his own. Hal growls again, deep in his throat, and the sound of it makes a flicker of arousal shoot straight into Dominic’s groin.

“Hal,” he says again, but it’s barely a whisper this time as he pushes his hips up against Hal, looking for friction. One of Hal’s hands comes down to lightly brush over the growing bulge in his trousers, and he moans. He is faintly aware of Tom and Alex in the adjoining rooms, but decides that he is too aroused right now to care. His tongue battles back against Hal’s and he pushes into Hal’s mouth, licking and exploring, until he comes up against something sharp. He experimentally runs his tongue over the fang and gasps as he feels it cut into his flesh, and a moment later the familiar taste of copper fills his mouth. Hal lets out a loud, feral groan. His tongue pushes back into Dominic’s mouth and he laps at the blood, caresses Dominic’s tongue with his own along the small cut.

Hal’s hand is still on him, he realises, rubbing against his hard length through the fabric of his trousers, and he arches up into the touch, silently begging for more. Hal, however, seems to have other ideas, as his mouth leaves Dominic’s and kisses a wet trail down his jaw until he settles himself over his neck, kissing, licking, and then, without warning, his fangs penetrate Dominic’s skin and he gasps. Hal’s hand continues to caress him through his trousers and it’s difficult to keep count, but he bites his lip, shuts his eyes and forces his mind into focus.

_One… two… three…_

—Hal’s hand is at his belt buckle, and the next moment his cool fingers wrap around his erection—

_Four… five… six…_

—Hal’s hand starts moving up and down his shaft, and all the while he can still feel the sharp sting of Hal’s teeth in his neck, hear the quiet sucking sounds he makes. He lets out a loud, high-pitched whimper, feels arousal coursing through him, more intense than ever before—

_Seven… eight… nine… ten…_

—He finds that he can’t stop him right now, doesn’t want to, wants to continue this incredible sensation for a little while longer. He keeps counting—

_Eleven… twelve… thirteen…… fourteen……… fifteen…………_

—Dominic can feel his mind slipping, and with an enormous effort, he brings his hands up and grabs Hal’s head, pulls him off of his neck and into an open-mouthed kiss. The metallic taste of his own blood on his tongue is so strong it is almost overwhelming, and it makes him gag a little. Hal pulls away and rests his forehead against Dominic’s chest, mouth a fair distance away from his neck, while he continues stroking him, slow, fast, slow, thumb flicking over the sensitive head, and it doesn’t take Dominic long to succumb.

“Oh, oh God, Hal,” he whimpers as he comes, spurts of his release landing all over Hal’s hand and his own stomach.

It feels like the world is coming to a standstill. Lying there in the afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm, Dominic feels a little bit sickened by the fact that Hal feeding on him has been almost as much of a turn on as Hal’s hand on his cock, and that the combination of both was what made the experience so powerful.

“That was…” he starts, but finds that he can’t say it. Something in him rejects the notion that he enjoyed it, that he is allowed to enjoy it. Even though he knows it’s not much of a secret by now that he does. “… ahead of schedule,” he finishes instead, and Hal lifts his head off his chest, a small huff of a laugh on his lips.

“ _That’s_ what you are thinking about right now?”

Dominic nods, eyes wide, breath coming in fast, shallow puffs.

There is a small, almost wistful smile on Hal’s face when he replies, “It’s you. Your proximity here in the house. It makes it more difficult for me to… control myself.”

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t spend so much time together?” Dominic asks. His neck starts pulsing painfully now that the endorphins are leaving his system, and he winces and brings one hand up to it reflexively, drawing Hal’s eyes back to the wound. There is a tiny flicker of longing there, before it gets replaced by concern and a little bit of guilt.

Hal climbs off of him, reaches over to open one of the drawers on his bedside table. Dominic notices that the flask of blood he gave him is in there, next to an unopened box of tissues. Hal ignores the blood, pulls out the tissues and hands him one, wiping his own mouth with another. Then he looks over at Dominic with a small frown, takes out a third tissue, and wipes it over Dominic’s lips. The faint taste of blood is still in his mouth, and he finds himself swallowing repeatedly. Hal’s frown deepens.

Dominic presses the tissue to his neck, the pressure providing some relief from the throbbing pain, and looks up at Hal, who is sitting on the bed next to him, watching him. “What you said before, about my proximity making it harder for you to control yourself…” he trails off, waiting for Hal to pick up the thread.

“Yes,” Hal replies. “I find that, the more time I spend with you, the more difficult it is to contain it.”

Dominic lets out a humourless laugh. “That might make the whole relationship thing a bit difficult.” He raises his eyebrows at Hal, who gives him a small smile and leans in to brush his lips against Dominic’s – careful, testing the waters. Dominic cups Hal’s cheek with his hand and kisses him back, shows him that it’s all right, he’s not mad, and he slowly feels Hal relax.

Hal pulls back a fraction, touches his forehead to Dominic’s and says, “We’ll find a way of making it work.”

There is another thought, however, slowly coming to the forefront of Dominic’s mind, and as much as he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, he will have to tell him eventually.

“Hal, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he starts, lips almost brushing Hal’s as he speaks, that is how close they still are. He can feel Hal’s forehead creasing slightly against his.

“That sounds ominous,” Hal says, but doesn’t move away. Dominic’s thumb brushes against Hal’s stubbled cheek. He doesn’t want to tell him. He doesn’t want to move away. He wants to stay here, in this odd old house in Barry, with Hal by his side, for all eternity.

“I have to move,” he says finally. Hal tenses and pulls away, looking at him with a small frown on his face.

“I take it you don’t mean to say your tenancy is running out.”

Dominic sighs, shakes his head. “No. I’m moving to London. For work.”

Hal’s eyes flash with something that might be fear, anger, and a little hint of possessiveness. “London,” he says, and his voice is cold, detached.

Dominic sighs again. “Yes. I was offered a job, and I… you know how difficult it will be for me to find employment. I have no CV, no ‘transferrable skills’ as they call it… I have to take this opportunity.”

Hal moves away from him, gets off the bed and stands by the window with his back turned to him. He doesn’t say anything.

“Hal?” Dominic asks after a moment of complete silence. He can see Hal twitch slightly at hearing his name, but he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t react in any meaningful way. Dominic bites his lip, thinks for a moment, then climbs out of bed and comes to stand behind Hal, reaches out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder. Hal doesn’t flinch away. That’s a good sign. “We can still see each other at weekends,” Dominic says quietly. “You could come to visit on your days off. We can make it work,” he almost repeats Hal’s words from earlier.

Hal turns around to him then, and Dominic is surprised to see that he looks scared rather than angry. “You saw what happened when I didn’t feed properly for five days. Do you really want to see a repeat of that?”

Dominic swallows. The memory of Hal, hungry and desperate on his doorstep, is still fresh in his mind. “Of course not,” he says calmly. He has thought about this. “I can give you more flasks. Make sure you always have enough of a supply to tide you over until we see each other again.” He looks directly into Hal’s eyes then, searching for a connection, but Hal averts his gaze.

“What if you don’t make it back one day? If you have to work late, or there’s a traffic jam, or a fucking snow storm?” His hand gestures to the window behind him, and Dominic looks over his shoulder to take in the snow-covered streets of Barry, the thick, white flakes still falling relentlessly from the sky.

“We’ll have to make a contingency plan for that,” Dominic says matter-of-factly, drawing his eyes away from the window and back onto Hal. The Type 2 gives him an incredulous look.

“You really have thought this all through already, haven’t you?” he asks. “How long have you known about this and not told me?”

Now it is Dominic’s turn to avert his gaze, to hang his head in shame. “A week.”

“A week,” Hal repeats, tone icy.

Dominic reaches out a hand again, needs to feel Hal’s skin under his fingertips. His hand closes around Hal’s shoulder and Hal lets him. Thank God. “Yes. I’m sorry, Hal, I didn’t know how to tell you—”

“You didn’t have any problem just now,” Hal shoots back. Dominic brushes his fingertips over Hal’s shoulder in a soothing motion.

“I don’t really want to go either,” he admits. “I thought I could come up with an alternative, but I think that’s it. I’ll have to go with it.”

Hal’s shoulders slump slightly and the fight leaves him as his arms circle around Dominic’s waist, pulling him close. “When are you moving?” he asks, face buried in Dominic’s neck, breathing in. Smelling his blood, he realises.

“Next weekend,” Dominic says. “I’m starting the new job the Monday after.”

Hal lets out a long breath against his tender neck, then presses a kiss to his collarbone just underneath. Dominic’s hands grip both sides of Hal’s head and pull him up to kiss his mouth instead, gently, slowly. Hal kisses him back, and they stand there for a long time, lips moving against lips and hands roaming over bare chests. The kissing becomes more heated as it goes on, and soon Dominic finds himself with Hal’s lips tightly closed around his tongue, sucking it into his own mouth, and memories of the other things that delicious mouth did for him flood his mind.

Before he really even knows what he is doing, Dominic finds himself on his knees, hand on the front of Hal’s jeans, undoing the button and zip before pulling them down. He can see the outline of Hal’s erection through the loose fabric of his boxers, and he brings a hand up to rub against it, feel it twitch against his fingertips.

“Dominic,” Hal gasps above him. He looks up to see Hal watching him, eyes half-closed, lips slightly parted. “What are you doing down there?”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Dominic says, rubbing his hand over the bulge in Hal’s boxers again before gripping the waistband and pulling them down. Hal’s erection springs free in front of him, so close to his face, and his eyes go wide for a moment. He really has no idea what to do. Apart from his two wonderful times with Hal, he has absolutely no experience in this department.

He hesitantly reaches out and wraps his hand around the base of Hal’s cock, and he can hear Hal’s sharp intake of breath. Encouraged to continue, he moves his hand up and down the hard, velvety length a few times before leaning forward and placing a closed-mouthed kiss on the very head of Hal’s cock. Hal moans loudly at the contact, and Dominic places another kiss, and this time the tip of his tongue comes out and he touches it against the underside of Hal’s cock experimentally. When he does, Hal’s hand comes up to settle on the back of his head, gently caressing his hair. He gives Hal’s cock another lick, starting a bit further down this time and licking his way up to the head, like he remembers Hal doing it for him. Hal’s hand tightens in his hair for a moment and he starts whimpering above him. Good, he’s obviously doing something right.

Dominic steals a look at Hal’s face then. His eyes are closed and he is lightly biting his bottom lip. He looks absolutely beautiful. Dominic brings his eyes back down to Hal’s cock, renews his grip around the base with his right hand, and leans in a little bit further to take the very tip of it into his mouth. Hal groans loudly and when Dominic looks up at him, he can see Hal’s hazel eyes, dark with desire, staring back at him. Hal’s cock feels big and heavy in his mouth, and he has no idea how to possibly fit a lot more of it in, but he gives it a try nonetheless, moving his lips down the length of it. He can feel Hal’s hand stroking his hair in what could almost be described as a soothing way, and he pulls off of Hal’s cock, just to move down on it again a moment later, slowly building up a bit of a rhythm. His right hand starts to move up and down the base, covering the areas that his mouth can’t, and it seems to work, at least judging by the noises Hal is making above him, by how incredibly dark and stormy his eyes have become.

“Mmmh, Dominic,” Hal breathes, his other hand joining his first at the back of his head, stroking his hair, as he continues the up-down movement of his mouth on Hal’s hard length. He remembers another thing Hal had done and flicks his tongue out, licking little patterns along the velvety shaft as he moves his mouth, and Hal moans again, loudly. Surely by now Alex and Tom must know what they’re up to, Dominic thinks. Somehow, it just makes him want to continue even more.

While his right hand stays on Hal’s cock to help out his inexperienced mouth, he brings up his left to lightly touch Hal’s balls, running his fingers through the patch of dark hair down there, all the while continuing the movements of his mouth and hand, and it’s not long before he feels Hal starting to tense and twitch under him. His hands in his hair are gripping him tightly now, and when he licks a little circle around the slit, he can taste the salty liquid oozing out from it, signalling that Hal is getting close.

He takes him into his mouth again and he feels Hal thrust his hips forward ever so slightly, pushing himself deeper into his mouth. Dominic, taken slightly by surprise, doesn’t manage to fully sheath his teeth and ends up grazing them over Hal’s length, making him groan and quiver and thrust forward again. Dominic pulls back a bit, catching his breath for a moment, before he brings his hands up to Hal’s hips, holding him in place as his mouth descends on him again. He builds up his rhythm again, runs his tongue along the underside as he comes back up, and that’s it. Hal doesn’t even have time to properly warn him before his come shoots into his mouth. It’s salty and bitter and a lot like what he tasted on Hal’s lips that night, not his favourite thing in the world but also not altogether awful.

Dominic holds Hal’s cock in his hand, keeps his mouth around the head until he has released the last spurt of come into his mouth, then he slowly pulls off of him, looks up at Hal, who is watching him with raised eyebrows, and swallows.

“Wow,” Hal says, and grabs Dominic’s shoulder to pull him up. His legs are slightly wobbly from kneeling for so long, and he brings his hands up to Hal’s shoulders to steady himself. Hal’s eyes are bright and full of wonder, and he brings up a hand to Dominic’s cheek to wipe his thumb over the side of his mouth. To wipe away a stray drop of come, he realises, and looks on with wide eyes as Hal brings the thumb up to his own mouth.

“Not bad for a first time, huh?” he says, and a small smile forms on his lips to cover up his embarrassment.

Hal’s answering smile is bright and beautiful. “Yes, I think I can live with that.” He leans in and kisses Dominic. When he pulls back, there is a glint in his eye. “Don’t think this makes up for the fact that you’re moving to London though. I still have just as much right to be mad at you for that.”

Dominic smiles wryly. “Yes. You do. But at least I’ve given you another reason to stick with me regardless.”

Hal huffs out a laugh and pulls him into a hug, burying his nose in the crook of his neck again, breathing him in.

 _That’s the real reason he will stick with you,_ the voice at the back of his mind speaks up. _It always has been and always will be about the blood, first and foremost._ Dominic blocks out the voice, concentrates on the feeling of Hal’s mouth on him as he places a gentle kiss on the bite wound, then on his lips, and traces a hand down Dominic’s chest.

“Let’s go to bed,” Hal says quietly. “It’s past midnight and I need to be up early for work tomorrow.”

Dominic nods, the word ‘work’ bringing an unwelcome reminder of his own task for the morning, and follows Hal over to the narrow bed. If he is going to stay over more frequently, they will have to get a bigger bed, he thinks distractedly as he lies down and cuddles up to Hal, running one hand over his pale chest while fitting his head neatly on Hal’s shoulder. Hal leans down and places a soft kiss to his forehead, and a thought suddenly materialises in Dominic’s mind, shoots to the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates a moment too long and it’s gone before he gets a chance to say it. It’s probably for the best, he thinks, as his eyelids drop and he feels himself drift off into a deep, peaceful sleep. He doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night, and it’s Hal’s alarm that wakes him bright and early the next morning.

***

Hal is surprised when he enters the hotel foyer and finds Natasha manning the reception desk.

“Hi, Hal,” she says with a smile, and his brow furrows.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in today,” he admits.

“Yeah, well, the trains were running again, and to be honest, I was starting to feel a bit stir-crazy alone in that big-arse flat.” She bites her lip. “How’s Dominic, anyway?”

Hal gives her a small, slightly forced smile. “He’s fine. Although there is something we need to talk about.”

“Oh yes, there is,” she says, nodding. “I take it he’s told you about leaving us all here and going to live in London, yeah?”

Hal frowns. That’s not what he had meant to talk about, but with Captain Hatch sitting less than ten feet away, reading the morning paper (“PVU Initiative will make Britain stronger, safer, and more efficient, Prime Minister says”), he has to be careful not to give the game away.

Natasha, it seems, has followed his gaze to the Captain. “You better make sure Dominic doesn’t read the paper today, or he’ll lose his shit,” she says with a crooked smile, and Hal huffs out a short laugh. Natasha’s brow furrows. “Seriously, though, it is worrying, the way his department is just… dissolved. I mean, they were doing important work. Even though I didn’t always agree with all of their methods.” She looks up at Hal. “It’s weird to think that Tom is actually one of them… you know, the monsters they were trying to protect us from. He seems so… so human. Like, if it wasn’t for you guys communicating with a ghost, I never would’ve thought anything was up at all. And, well, now I think that Tom is quite possibly one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

Hal’s frown deepens throughout her little monologue, and he gives her what he hopes is a meaningful glance as he says, “Natasha, can I have a word in my office please.”

She looks taken aback only for a second before she cottons on. “Of course, sir.”

She follows him into his office and he makes sure the door is shut before he turns around and gives her a serious look. “Natasha, there is something you need to know… about Captain Hatch.”

Hal explains the situation to her, starting from Alex’s discovery in the surveillance footage and talking her through an amended version of the summoning ritual that doesn’t involve himself. She takes the news better than he expected, to say the least. There are raised eyebrows, yes, there is a frown and a slightly trembling voice when she asks, “So, what’s the plan?”, but that’s it.

He shrugs and answers, “Wait and see. Make sure he doesn’t gain strength. In his current form he can do very little to harm us.”

 _You’re so good at telling lies,_ that traitorous little voice at the back of his mind taunts him. _You know very well what he is capable of, even now, and you are putting everyone in this hotel at risk by not sharing your knowledge of the ritual._

The worst thing is, he knows the voice is right. He knows that Dominic is looking for details of the ritual even now, and he knows that he won’t be able to protect his friends forever. And yet he also knows deep down that he will always value their lives above all the nameless faces at the hotel, and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

_Them? Or yourself?_

“Are you sure?” Natasha looks at him with big eyes full of trust. It makes him feel a stab of guilt in his chest.

“Yes, I’m sure.” The smile that accompanies the statement never reaches his eyes. Keen to move on from the topic, he asks, “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Natasha gives a little laugh. “Doesn’t really seem all that important after your bit of news, but… with Dominic moving to London… well, basically, I was wondering if your offer of that spare room still stands?” She speaks very quickly at the end, and it takes him a short moment to catch up.

“You mean, you want to move in with us?” _Bad idea, very, very bad idea._

“Yes.” She smiles brightly at him. “If the room is still free. And, you know, Alex doesn’t mind.”

Hal’s eyebrows draw together at that. “Why Alex, specifically?”

“Because I can’t see her,” Natasha says, but it sounds more like a question.

Hal nods. “Of course. Well, I will take your request home with me and speak to Tom and Alex as soon as I can. Although I’m sure Tom wouldn’t object too much to having you in the house.”

Natasha smiles. “No, it would be nice, spending more time with him. And you. With both of you,” she adds, looking a bit flustered.

He sighs. “Don’t worry, I know about you and Tom. I'm happy for you both.”

“Thanks,” says Natasha, still smiling, but then her expression changes and she frowns. “Don’t tell Dominic about us, though.”

“Of course not.”

“I mean it, Hal,” she adds, urgency in her voice. “He will kill me if he finds out I’m going out with a werewolf. He might forgive you for being Tom’s friend because he loves you, but he would _never_ approve of me dating a supernatural, you can bet your life on that.”

Hal is momentarily speechless. Whether it is because of the dramatic irony of her statement, the fact that despite everything, she is probably completely right in her assumption, or the way she just casually dropped the “L” word into conversation, he is not entirely sure.

“Hal?” she says, giving him a curious look.

“Er… yes. I mean, I won’t tell him. You can be sure of that.”

“It’s a shame really,” Natasha continues, pouting slightly with her head cocked to one side. “We could have gone on a double date.”

His eyes widen at the thought. Memories of his last (frankly disastrous) double date mingle with images of Dominic, Tom, Natasha and himself sitting around a table at a restaurant, making awkward conversation in between death glares.

“Oh my God, your face,” Natasha crows. “It almost makes me want to tell him anyway, just so I can make that suggestion.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says, trying to sound stern but ending up a little bit panicked. To be completely honest, he wouldn’t put it past her.

She looks smug when she replies, “Try me, Mr Yorke.”

***

Hal is overseeing the staff in the dining room serving afternoon tea when Tom walks into the room, gives Hal a sour look and says, “I need to talk to ya.”

Hal frowns slightly at his friend, wondering what brought on his foul mood, hoping against hope that Dominic hasn’t said anything inflammatory to the young werewolf. Then he remembers that it’s only three days until the full moon, and Tom always becomes a great deal more volatile around his ‘time of the month’. Yet his discontent seems to very much be directed at Hal, and that, he doesn’t have the faintest explanation for. “Of course,” he says with a small, forced smile, trying to keep things civil. “Let’s speak in my office.”

He leads the way to the manager’s office and feels Tom hot on his heels, the werewolf scent strong on him so close to the transformation. Tom shuts the door behind him just as Hal turns around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Tom? You seem… agitated,” Hal says, brows furrowed at his friend.

“It’s him, innit?” Tom shoots back immediately, and at Hal’s blank expression, adds, “Rook.” It takes Hal a short moment to catch on to what the werewolf is implying. He feels a lump forming in his throat when he does.

“I’m not entire sure what you mean,” he replies.

Tom snorts. “He supplies you with the blood, don’t he?” Tom asks now, and the corners of his mouth pull down in a sickened frown.

Hal’s breath catches on the lump in his throat. How could Tom possibly know? Has he seen the bite marks? They have been so careful to cover them up, to take the dressing off as soon as possible so it doesn’t peek out of his shirt collar. For a horrible second Hal entertains the possibility that Tom might have seen them together. That he came into Hal’s room as he… but no. He would have smelled him. Even through the blood rush, the presence of a werewolf is something that wouldn’t slip past him easily.

“What makes you think that?” he says, and his voice sounds strangled.

“Well, you haven’t been to Cardiff for the last few days,” Tom explains calmly, although the frown hasn’t left his face, “and you seem, well, you seem all right, don’t ya? I mean, you’re not suffering from withdrawal or nowt. So you must’ve had some. Blood, I mean.” Tom’s frown deepens again. “Did he bring it to the house?” he adds then, and Hal breathes a small sigh of relief, seeing where his friend is going with this. He gives a careful nod. “So, how does it work?” Tom asks. “Is it something to do with his department, like? I thought that’s all shut down now?”

Hal takes a deep breath and says, “Yes, but he kept in touch with some of the donors.” Tom nods, eyebrows drawing together, and Hal adds, “Please don’t take it out on him, Tom, it’s not his fault. I asked him for it.”

“Yeah, all right,” Tom says. “And I guess you were right, he does know what he’s doin’, don’t he? I mean, he knows you’re dangerous and that.”

Hal nods. “Yes.” _Does he, though? Because sometimes it seems like he’s enjoying it just a little too much…_

“All right, then,” Tom says. “I need to get back to work.” He turns towards the door.

Hal gives a sharp nod. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Yeah, don’t push it,” his friend says and exits the room.

***

Hal comes home to find Alex and Dominic on the sofa, eyes drawn to the laptop screen. Dominic is pointing at something on the screen and saying, “So you’ll have to avoid that area, if possible.” Just then Alex’s head shoots up and she looks around at the new arrival.

“Hi Hal,” she says loudly, and Dominic shuts the laptop almost reflexively. He turns around and looks at Hal with big eyes, then a slow smile spreads on his face.

“Hi Hal,” he repeats, and sets the laptop down on the coffee table, never taking his eyes off Hal.

Hal walks over to the sofa, intrigued by what the two of them have been up to. He raises one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth quirk up, but Dominic just continues to look at him with big blue eyes and Alex sits next to him with an equally innocent expression on her face. Neither of them seem to be forthcoming with information, and Hal knows better than to pry. He will most likely find out sooner or later.

He reaches his hand out, cupping Dominic’s face and leaning down to give him a soft, lingering kiss. “Hey there,” he says against Dominic’s mouth, then pecks the tip of his nose before pulling away and sitting down on the beige corner sofa. He can feel Alex’s eyes on him and looks up at his friend. “Good day?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Yeah, fairly,” she answers. “No more luck with the video footage, but we are coming up with a plan to learn more about the ritual.”

Hal’s eyebrows shoot up at this, his gaze going back and forth between the two of them. “How so?”

Dominic clears his throat. “We are going to get some of the Archive files back.”

“Okay,” says Hal, slightly puzzled. “I thought you said you have no access to those files anymore.”

“That’s exactly the point,” agrees Dominic, “which is why we have come up with a plan to—”

“I’m going to break into Scotland Yard!” Alex blurts out, a big grin on her face.

Hal’s eyes widen. “You what?”

Dominic glares approximately at Alex’s left ear and continues, “Yes, well, I was going to ease you into the idea slowly, but _someone_ had to go and spoil it.”

Hal lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”

Dominic has the grace to look sheepish as he replies, “I wasn’t so sure to start with either, but think about it. She can’t be seen, can’t be contained in any way. Even if they did catch her, she could just… teleport—”

“Rent-a-ghost,” Alex throws in.

“—yes, well, basically she could get straight back out of there. It’s fool proof.” Dominic looks at Hal with steely eyes.

Hal sighs deeply. “I don’t know about this.”

_What if they’re actually going to find out about the ritual? Or about your role in it? But there are no written records of what happened then, Dominic even said so. They won’t find anything. Let them get the files, it won’t make a difference._

“Oh come on, Hal, it’s the best plan we’ve got. Plus, I mean, how many people can honestly say they’ve broken into Scotland fucking Yard?” says Alex, still smiling widely.

He heaves another big sigh before saying, “Yes, all right. Not that you need my permission, I know you’d do it anyway.”

“But we should all be on the same page,” says Dominic, giving him a soft smile.

“That we should,” Hal agrees, gets up and gives Dominic another quick peck on the lips before walking towards the kitchen to get started on dinner.

Two hours later, the three of them find themselves settled on the large brown sofa again, and Alex is fiddling with the TV remote to bring up BBC1.

“It’s a bit of a tradition,” Hal explains to Dominic, who is sitting on his right, close enough that their shoulders and thighs are touching. “On Sunday evenings the three of us sit down to watch _Antiques Roadshow_.” Tom is on a late shift tonight, which means that ‘the three of them’ means him, Alex and Dominic tonight, and Hal is not going to complain about that. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the werewolf’s company, but their relationship has unfortunately been rather strained in the last couple of weeks.

“Huh,” says Dominic, a small smile on his lips. It still seems to amaze him that a household of three supernaturals can do such mundane and ordinary things as have dinner and watch a TV programme together.

“Annie used to love it,” Hal explains, but that only seems to deepen the confusion on Dominic’s face. Hal elaborates, “Annie was a ghost. She used to live here with us, with Tom and myself, before Alex moved in.”

“What happened to her?” Dominic asks.

Hal lets out a deep sigh. Even though Annie passed over nearly six months ago, the manner of her passing is still fresh and raw in his mind. “She completed her unfinished business,” he says vaguely.

“She destroyed the Old Ones,” Alex adds, and Hal barely suppresses a groan. Dominic, however, perks up at that.

“She was the War Child’s guardian?” he asks.

Hal whips around to him. “You know about the War Child?”

Dominic nods. “I do.” Then he fixes questioning eyes on Hal. “Did you know her?”

“Eve?” Hal asks, voice grave. If Annie’s passing was a lot to take in, six months is definitely not enough to get over Eve’s untimely death. At Dominic’s nod, he continues, “Yes, of course I did. She lived here with us.”

“That’s incredible,” Dominic breathes. Then his expression changes into a frown. “You were close to her?” Hal nods silently. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Hal swallows. “Thank you. It was what was… destined to happen.”

“Do you really believe that?” Alex pipes up on his other side. “I mean, the prophecy also said that Eve was going to destroy all vampires, didn’t it? Yet you’re still here. And that little girl, the one who was led out—”

“Hetty,” Dominic says, and Hal looks at him sharply.

“You know Hetty?”

“Of course I know Hetty,” Dominic says with a frown. “It was her who told me about you.”

Hal huffs out a laugh. “That sounds like her all right. Ratting me out to you. I always did wonder how you found me.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “Any idea where she is now?”

“Bolivia, I believe,” Dominic says matter-of-factly. “At least that is where we sent her. What she’s done since then is anyone’s guess.”

“Shh, guys, it’s starting,” Alex says then, just as the opening music for _Antiques Roadshow_ rings out through the TV speakers. The three of them settle on the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen, shouting out occasional comments and guessing values. Hal can hear Dominic’s steady heartbeat next to him, feel the warmth emanating from his body. A few minutes in, Hal’s hand wanders from his own thigh to Dominic’s, fingers brushing against the back of the man’s hand. Dominic’s hand turns over and his fingers close over Hal’s, thumb making circles on the back of his hand. They sit like that, hands entwined, eyes still never veering from the screen.

“Ooh, that looks expensive,” Alex remarks at a large, ornate mirror with a frame of intricate patterns of silver.

“Mirrors are overrated,” Hal mutters darkly, and Dominic chuckles. “Actually,” Hal adds, looking at the blond man, “that one looks remarkably like the one above your fireplace.”

“Yes,” Dominic agrees. “I inherited that from my father. I believe it’s been in our family for generations.”

“To alert you to evil monsters invading your home,” Hal says, and Dominic nods.

“Yes, that’s pretty much the idea.” His eyes lock with Hal’s, big and blue and incredibly close, and Hal feels them pull him closer, until he can feel Dominic’s breath on his lips, and he closes the last inch of distance to press his lips to Dominic’s. The other man immediately kisses him back, velvety soft lips moving against his own, and he brings up his free hand to cup Dominic’s cheek. The kiss becomes more heated as Dominic hesitantly sucks on Hal’s bottom lip before the very tip of his tongue comes out to lightly lick against Hal’s mouth. Hal lets out a breathy moan as he opens his mouth to Dominic, invites his tongue into his mouth, to explore, to meet it with his own. Their joint hands, he notices, have slipped off of Dominic’s thigh and into the small space between them as he is leaning over the smaller man’s frame, pressing him into the back of the sofa as their tongues continue their delicious battle, until—

“Guys, hello? Am I totally invisible here?” Alex calls exasperatedly.

Hal flies off of Dominic and straightens up on the sofa, looking at his friend with wide eyes. Her eyebrows are almost at her hairline, but there is a small amused smile playing on her lips.

“Erm, yes, you are, actually,” Dominic says then, and Hal bursts out laughing at his terrible joke. A short moment later, Alex has joint in, and eventually all three of them are in fits of giggles.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, Hal thinks as he looks back and forth between his friend and his boyfriend, in this moment, life is good.


	21. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic is standing in front of the large bay window, looking out on the hustle and bustle of a busy London street. All around him are boxes full of his belongings, and his furniture have been expertly put into place by the removal company. The high ceilings, magnolia walls and shiny wooden flooring of the Bayswater flat should make it easy for him to like the place, but in truth Dominic’s heart aches for his flat in Cardiff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much a transitional chapter, not just geographically, but also to set up the events in the final third of the story. As such, this chapter has given me headaches and sleepless nights, and for a long time the thought of 'Chapter 21' was that I would never be able to finish it, even after a good few of the following chapters were already written. I finally ended up with this, and I think I am as happy with it as I ever will be.
> 
> Enjoy!

And we walked ropes to start this  
With a small hope we’d make it  
And I held what we could be  
‘Cause I was what you gave me  
And you know when you sleep light  
That you’re the most beautiful thing in my life

\- Union Sound Set, “This Will Change Us”

  
Dominic is in his study, emptying his desk drawers and organising his belongings into boxes. The top drawer is easily dealt with, the only contents being his stopwatch, his old set of poker dice, and his father’s revolver. He places all three of them carefully down into the box, making sure the revolver is empty, before opening the second drawer.

He looks down at his old work notebook, lifts it up to reveal four photographs, bound together with a loose rubber band.

He picks them up and removes the rubber band, then takes a long look at the first picture. A blonde woman in her twenties with big blue eyes and long lashes is beaming into the camera. Standing next to her is a plump, older woman with short, curly, ash blonde hair. The older woman’s eyes are averted from the camera, looking down at the little bundle in the younger woman’s arms. A small, pink, bald head just peeks out of the pile of thick blankets. Dominic runs a finger over the younger woman’s face for a moment before placing the picture down on the desk and taking a look at the next one.

This photo shows Natasha, age eleven, smiling in her brand new school uniform. Her long dark hair is in two pigtails on the sides of her head. He turns the photo over, reads the smudged blue ink writing on the back.

_Dear Dominic,_  
_Today is my first day of secondary school. I am very nervous, but Caroline says that it is everyone’s first day, so all the other children will be nervous as well. I hope they are going to be nice to me. But if they’re not, I know that I can call you and you will be there to protect me._  
_Love,_  
_Natasha_

Dominic allows himself a small smile at the memory of when he received the photo in the post, then places it down next to the first one on the desk. As his eyes land on the third picture, he faintly hears a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Natasha calls from the living room, and he can hear her soft, sock-clad footsteps down the hallway to the door.

His eyes fall back down on the photo in his hand.

Picture number three is of a petite young woman with shoulder-length dark hair crouching on the floor next to a small blond boy wearing a blue Cardiff City jersey. One of her arms is around the boy’s back, the other is holding an old-style black and white football. Both of them are smiling brightly into the camera. Dominic looks fondly down at the young woman, and just like he did with the first picture, runs his finger over her for a moment before the photo joins the others on the desk.

There is only one photo left in his hand now, and Dominic stares for a long moment at the intricately painted portrait of a handsome young man.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice says, and Dominic’s eyes snap up to see the very same young man standing in front of him.

“Hi.” He smiles at Hal, dropping his hand holding the picture down below his desk, but Hal’s eyes follow the movement.

“What’s this?” he asks, coming around the desk to stand next to Dominic. His eyes quickly roam over the pictures laid out on the desk before looking back down at Dominic’s hand.

Dominic sighs and lifts up his hand, holding the photo out to Hal. The Type 2’s eyes widen momentarily and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of the picture.

“Where did you get this?” he whispers, and his eyes come up to find Dominic’s own. There is a pain in those eyes that he did not anticipate, and he frowns.

“It was in your file, at the Archive,” he explains. “I… took it, before the file was taken away to Special Branch.” He swallows, then adds, “I figured it was the only picture I would ever have of you.”

Hal laughs humourlessly, a sad smile settling on his face. “That’s what she said.”

“Who?” Dominic asks before he can stop himself.

Hal looks directly at him and says, “Sylvie. My wife. She had this portrait done as a commission in 1799.”

Dominic swallows, an irrational flare of jealousy surging through his gut at the mention of Hal’s wife, even though he knows that this happened over two hundred years ago. “Lady Sylvia Yorke,” he says quietly, and his stomach lurches slightly as he remembers where he read her name before.

“But that’s impossible,” Hal says, frowning down at the picture again. “The painting was destroyed.” His eyes lock on Dominic’s, who meets them with a frown of his own.

“Are you sure?”

Hal nods. “Yes. I’m certain. It was destroyed in a fire in 1804.”

Dominic thinks back again over the witness account of what happened at the Yorke residence in 1804, how the lord of the manor had suddenly snapped and killed the entire household, including his own wife, before setting fire to the property. A wave of nausea overcomes him, and he flops down in the office chair that is thankfully sat behind him.

“Dominic?” Hal asks, concerned.

“There was a witness,” Dominic says faintly, trying and failing to hold back the growing nausea.

Hal’s tone is alarmed when he replies, “What do you mean, a witness?”

Dominic looks into Hal’s eyes. Hal is leaning against the desk in front of him, meeting his gaze with a slight frown. “According to our records, one of the maids got away. She hid when she realised you started... killing people, and she escaped the building before it burned down. She must have taken the painting with her to identify you when she spoke to the police.”

Hal looks down, shakes his head, meets Dominic’s eyes again. His eyes are glistening with tears. “You know what I did?”

Dominic swallows and nods. Hal’s eyes close, and a single tear escapes, rolling down his left cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says and turns away, taking a few steps towards the door.

“Hal, wait,” Dominic calls and jumps to his feet. Hal stops in his tracks and allows for Dominic to catch up to him. He reaches out a tentative hand and runs gentle fingers down Hal’s arm. Hal tenses under him for a fraction of a second, then relaxes. “Yes, I know what you did to Sylvie,” he says, “and that’s not the only… incident… I know about.” He walks around Hal, stands in front of him, takes in his tear-stained face for a moment before rubbing his thumb lightly over his cheek, wiping away the wetness. “As I told you before, I’m going into this with my eyes wide open.”

Hal chokes back a sob. “How can you even look at me, knowing what you know about me?” he asks quietly.

“Because I... care about you. The you that stands here before me now, which I recognise is a very different version of you to the one that committed those atrocities. And I know that, whatever may happen at some distant point in the future, at this moment in time you’re not that creature, Hal.”

Hal’s eyes grow large as he takes in Dominic’s words. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dominic reaches out with both hands, wipes the tears off Hal’s face before he leans in and lightly touches his lips to Hal’s. It takes a moment for Hal to relax into the kiss, but when he does, he brings his hands up to cup Dominic’s face, kissing him back passionately.

Dominic doesn’t know how long they have been standing there when a voice from the doorway interrupts the intimate moment.

“Aww,” Natasha coos, and Dominic takes a step back from Hal to look at the intruder. Natasha is leaning against the door frame with a bright smile on her face. “I just wanted to check if you guys wanted a cup of tea, I’m just making one,” she says, all the while smiling from ear to ear.

“Yes,” Dominic chokes out, letting out a long breath, “I think we could both do with that.”

“You’ve not already started saying your goodbyes, have you? I thought you’re not leaving until tomorrow.”

“I’m not,” Dominic says, but doesn’t elaborate further. He reaches out and takes Hal’s free hand in his own, pulls him back towards the desk. “Do you mind giving me a hand sorting through this stuff?” he asks Hal.

The Type 2 shakes his head and gives him a shaky smile. “Of course not.”

“Well, I’ll bring your tea through here, then, shall I?” Natasha asks and disappears back into the kitchen.

Hal’s eyes fall on the other pictures on the desk, and he picks up one of them, studying it closely for a moment.

“Your mother?” he asks, holding out the picture to Dominic.

Dominic nods. “And my grandmother. She looked after me when my mother fell ill.”

Hal takes all of this in with a slight air of melancholy, which, Dominic is sure, is only partly due to their earlier conversation.

“Do you have anything of your mother’s?” he asks then, and Hal’s face becomes even darker.

“No. I… don’t even really know… never mind,” he trails off, puts the picture back down with a sigh and picks up the one of Dominic as a small boy, smiling through his sadness.

Dominic, however, isn’t just going to let his comment go. “Don’t even really know what?” he asks softly.

Hal looks up at him. “Who’s the woman?” he asks, pointing back to the picture.

Dominic sighs, slightly irritated at being ignored. “My nanny. Don’t even really know what, Hal?”

“Which one of the women was my mother,” he snaps, and Dominic’s eyes grow wide. Hal turns away, facing the window as he continues. “There were six of them. They never told me, weren’t allowed, I think, to build any real emotional attachment. I had my suspicions, of course, but they were never officially confirmed.”

“That must have been very hard for you,” Dominic says immediately, and then wants to kick himself for the useless platitude. Hal, however, seems genuinely grateful as he turns and gives him another small smile.

“There was a lot about my childhood that would fit that description,” he says with a bitter little laugh.

Dominic’s breath hitches in his throat as he remembers Hal’s drunken throwaway comment of a week ago. He never has sought confirmation of what he said, perhaps now is the time.

“Hal, about that,” he starts, and then finds himself at somewhat of a loss. He is not even sure if Hal remembers what he said then.

Hal looks at him with a creased brow, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. “Yes?” he asks.

Dominic swallows and plunges right in. “The other day, when we were… you know. You said you were taught to—“

At that precise moment, Natasha returns to the study with a tray holding two cups of tea and a small plate of biscuits. Dominic almost chokes on the unsaid words in his throat, immensely glad that he has not spoken them yet.

The look of alarm in Hal’s eyes has grown, giving him a distinct deer in the headlights look.

“There you go, boys,” Natasha says with a smile, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room. Her eyes wander across the desk and fall on the topmost picture, the one of Dominic in the football jersey. “Oh my God, is that you?” she asks with a grin, her voice rising an octave in excitement.

Dominic finds himself blushing. “Yes,” he mumbles.

“Aww, you were adorable,” Natasha coos and turns to Hal. “Wasn’t he adorable?”

Hal musters a big smile of his own and agrees, “Quite.” He trains his eyes on Dominic, his gaze unusually intense, and Dominic can’t bring himself to look away.

“All right, I can tell when I’m not wanted somewhere,” he hears Natasha say as if from a great distance, and he feels himself nod distractedly. Natasha snorts out a laugh. “I’ll be in the living room, if you need me.”

A moment later, they are alone again, but Dominic realises too late that Hal’s sudden flirting has been a distraction, and that he has lost his opening to ask the question that is burning in his mind.

Hal’s lips land on his, and he soon loses himself in the sensation of those velvety lips moving against his own, so familiar by now yet so exciting every single time. Hal’s mouth wanders from his own down to his jaw, placing little kisses on his skin that make his heart speed up. Hal’s lips continue their journey down his neck, and Dominic fights against the flutter in his stomach, bringing his hands up to gently push Hal away from him.

“Not here,” he says with a warning in his voice, looking over at the open door.

Hal’s eyes are intense as he looks back at him. “I doubt she’ll be back any time soon,” he says, voice deep and raw, and Dominic finds it almost impossible to deny him.

With all the self-control he can muster, he chokes out, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Hal flashes him a smile that makes his breath hitch in his throat, and he grabs the Type 2’s hand to all but haul him across the room and across the hallway into his bedroom. The door has barely closed behind them before Hal is on him again, nose nudging into the crook of his neck impatiently before he sinks his fangs into his skin.

Dominic faintly thinks that he will never get tired of the way the sharp pain makes a spark of desire flare up at the pit of his stomach, and as soon as Hal’s ten seconds are up, he gives him a frantic shove that makes Hal stumble backwards and onto the bed. He falls backwards on the mattress, and Dominic climbs on top of him, leaning in, stopping just short of connecting their lips together. He pulls back a fraction, looks deeply into Hal’s eyes and says, in a voice that is almost as raw and needy as Hal’s was a moment ago, “Clean your mouth, I want to kiss you.”

Hal lets out a short, surprised laugh at his commanding tone, but complies either way, reaching sideways to pull a paper tissue from the box on the bedside table and wiping the red liquid from his mouth. When he is finished, he smiles up at Dominic, wiggling his eyebrows. “Done.”

Dominic doesn’t waste any more time as he hastily brings his lips down on Hal’s again in a searing kiss.

Hands go wandering across bodies, pulling shirts over heads and trousers down legs, and it doesn’t take long for both of them to be completely naked.

Dominic runs his hand across Hal’s toned stomach, just as Hal’s cool fingers run over his hip and his erection brushes against Hal’s, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against Hal’s mouth, and he can feel the smile forming on Hal’s mouth.

“Not so bad yourself,” he says quietly before kissing him again, rubbing against Dominic in slow, teasing movements, and Dominic feels himself blush. _Stupid, lying bastard,_ he thinks, but he takes the compliment anyway. He gently thrusts against Hal’s cock, the movement creating beautiful friction between them that causes his breathing to speed up.

Hal’s hand wanders from his hip across his buttock, and Dominic’s breath hitches again as he feels the cool fingers moving over his coccyx and further in, teasing feather lightly across that most private part of his anatomy, and he can’t stop himself from tensing up slightly.

“Hal,” he breathes against Hal’s mouth, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice.

“Is this okay?” Hal asks then, realising that he may have crossed a boundary, and Dominic thinks for a long moment.

Is what okay? What is he actually trying to do? He has of course thought about it, of taking that final step with Hal, but to be completely honest, he is nervous as hell about actually doing it.

“I’m not sure,” he says honestly, embarrassed to find that his voice is shaking slightly.

Hal gives him another gentle kiss, looks deeply into his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I already said to you I won’t do anything you don’t want. We don’t have to do that until you’re ready. Or ever, really, if you’d rather not.”

Dominic swallows thickly. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he starts, averting his eyes from Hal’s intense gaze. “I… maybe you could just… I don’t know…” he trails off for a long moment, before adding, in a whisper, “touch it?”

Hal chuckles lightly, breath tickling his cheek. “Of course I can do that.” He restarts the slow, tantalising movement of his cock against Dominic’s, and Dominic is surprised that he never even noticed when he stopped. One of Hal’s hands reaches in between them, then, taking them _both_ in his hand, and Dominic lets out a little surprised moan. Hal starts moving his hand, and, oh, the friction is delicious and he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge.

At the same time, Hal’s other hand returns to his buttock, lightly running across his skin and into the small space in between his cheeks. Dominic takes in a sharp breath at the sensation as one of Hal’s fingers ghosts over his opening, the feeling strange and foreign and, astoundingly, incredibly arousing.

“Do it again,” Dominic whispers, and his breath hitches once more as he feels Hal’s finger again, slightly more of a touch now, but still so, so gentle, and the combination of this and Hal’s other hand still moving up and down their joint erections drives him wild and he moans loudly. Hal’s mouth is over his a moment later, swallowing the moan, and Hal smiles against his mouth.

“Shush,” he says quietly against his mouth, “You don’t want to give Natasha that much of a show.”

Dominic squeezes his eyes shut for a moment in horror at what Hal said, but he is getting way too close now to really be able to do much to stop it. Hal’s finger dips ever so slightly into his tight hole and Dominic shivers and gives a pathetic little whimper in an attempt not to be too noisy. With a shallow thrust into Hal’s hand, he spills his load over Hal’s hand and both of their cocks, and a moment later, Hal’s own release joins it in a big, sticky mess between their bodies. They are both breathing heavily, and Hal’s eyes are that beautiful bright golden again, and Dominic kisses him lazily, basking in the afterglow.

  
***

Hal lets his head fall back on the pillow and welcomes the weight of Dominic’s head on his shoulder, the arm flung across his abdomen, keeping him grounded, counteracting the effect of the blood rush combined with the amazing orgasm he just experienced. His own arm comes around Dominic’s slender frame, holding him close. It is the perfect moment.

Or it would be, were it not for his thoughts whirling around the question that Dominic almost asked him earlier in the study. Of course he knows what Dominic was going to ask. Hal has to admit that his memory of that particularly evening is hazy, but the way Dominic phrased his question, it left very little to the imagination.

Hal curses his big mouth for coming out with something he really, _really_ wanted to keep to himself. It is not that he is ashamed of his past, exactly. It is all part of him, and it made him who he is today. But somehow he doubts that Dominic would see it the same way. And when it comes down to it, Hal doesn’t want to lose him over something he was literally forced to do more than five hundred years ago.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dominic’s sleepy voice breaks the tranquil silence.

Hal can’t help the sigh that escapes his mouth.

Dominic lifts his head up from his shoulder and looks at him with furrowed brows. “You okay?” he asks.

Hal nods, tries on a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Dominic says. Then, “Is this about tomorrow?”

Truth be told, Hal hasn’t even thought about Dominic leaving for London up until now, not wanting to explore what this would mean for their relationship, never mind his… other needs. He tries very hard not to think about Dominic as a food source if he can help it, but unfortunately, at the end of the day… he knows he has to. Especially when considering the one hundred and sixty miles separating them from tomorrow. Vampires are not built for long distance relationships.

Hal nods again, hating himself for lying to Dominic, but not wanting to bring up the real reason he has been lost in thought.

“It’ll be all right, you know,” Dominic says quietly, fingers running idly over his stomach. Hal desperately wants to believe him. “Go to sleep, we’ll have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me,” says Hal, now honestly subdued by the thought of Dominic leaving early in the morning.

Dominic’s hand reaches out to grab his own, bringing their joint hands up to rest on his chest, then pulls them even closer to press his lips to his knuckles. “I love how cool your skin is,” he says absentmindedly, almost as if he has forgotten that Hal is right there with him.

“You do?” Hal asks with raised eyebrows.

“Hmm,” Dominic confirms sleepily. “Always have. I still remember the first time I touched you, in the Archive… I was so flushed and hot and you were so cool against my fingers.”

Hal lets his mind wander back to that day, the day that changed both of their lives forever. Never in his wildest dreams would he have pictured himself here like this, everything he ever wanted or needed right here in his arms. He looks down at the blond man and sees that his eyes have closed and his chest is lightly rising and falling in the even breathing of sleep.

 _I love you,_ he thinks, surprising himself with the clarity of the admission, and the intensity of the feeling that comes with it. He knows he shouldn’t, can’t allow himself to develop these kinds of feelings for a human. With the memory of Sylvie still so raw in his mind after their earlier conversation, Hal feels his throat constrict at the implication of what his attachment might mean for Dominic, and he decidedly wills his thoughts away from that dangerous path. With a soft kiss to Dominic’s forehead, he settles down, closes his eyes, and lets himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

***

“ _This_ is your car?” Natasha crows as they leave the apartment building and Hal walks over to unlock the driver’s door.

He lifts his eyebrows at her. “Yes?” he says, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“That’s so cool,” she grins at him and walks around to the passenger side. “You’re really into vintage stuff, aren’t you?”

Hal narrows his eyes at her slightly across the roof of the car.

“Well, there’s the B&B, the car, Dominic…” she trails off and grins at him, and he snorts.

“You really should stop teasing him so much, you know,” he says, but can’t help the small smile forming on his face. He opens the door and gets in, leaning over to unlock the passenger door. No automatic locks in a 1968 Mercedes.

Natasha slides into the passenger seat and turns towards Hal, biting her lip. “I wasn’t teasing him, I was teasing you.”

Hal nods as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking bay. “Fair enough.”

They drive in silence for a while, Hal concentrating on the road and Natasha turning away to look out the passenger side window, watching the South Wales scenery go by, before she speaks up again. “And Alex is really okay with me moving in? I mean, I still don’t know how that’s going to work, but I definitely couldn’t see or hear her last time I was there.”

Hal nods. “Yes, she says she’s fine with it. Tom and I will just have to translate for you.”

She seems to mull that over for a moment, before turning back around to him and asking, “Have you always been able to hear ghosts?”

Hal looks back at her briefly before turning his eyes back on the road. “No,” he says curtly, and he can feel her eyes on him, silently prompting him to continue. “Something happened,” he says in way of explanation, but apparently it’s not quite detailed enough for Natasha’s curious mind.

“What do you mean, ‘something happened’?” she asks, brow furrowed.

“I was…” he trails off for a moment, searching for an explanation, and decides to go with something of a half-truth. “I was wounded, in combat.”

He throws her another quick glance and sees that her eyes have widened comically. “You were a soldier?”

He nods. “Yes. I served in Afghanistan,” he lies.

“Huh, I had no idea,” Natasha says quietly. “And you got injured and, what? Started to hear ghosts?”

Hal nods again. “Pretty much, yes.”

“Weird.”

“It was quite,” Hal agrees, thinking back to the time when he first became a vampire. ‘Weird’ barely even starts to describe what he felt at the time. “But then, it did mean that I met Tom and Alex, and they’ve both been great friends.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says, sounding slightly absentminded, like she is only half listening. A moment later, she says, “So that’s what you meant when you said that you enjoy the quiet life.”

Hal nods once more in agreement. “Exactly.”

They continue their journey in silence after that, Natasha turning back to look out the passenger side window and Hal concentrating on the road. Before long, he turns into the familiar road that leads up to the old B&B and parks the car in front of the house. As soon as he gets out, he can see the blinds moving, and a moment later Tom throws the door open enthusiastically, just to then hover halfway down the path from the open doorway to the pavement, looking exceedingly awkward.

“Natasha,” he says, and his eyes dart from her to Hal and back to her again. “Welcome.”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she has a bright smile on her face as she looks at him. “Thanks,” she says, walking up the path slowly and coming to a stop in front of Tom. From where Hal is standing, he can’t see the expression on her face, but he can see that Tom’s eyes soften and there is a hint of a blush crawling into his cheeks as he leans down and kisses her.

Hal smiles to himself, happy to see his friends happy, and in that moment, even though he only said goodbye to him this very morning, he misses Dominic something awful.

***

Dominic is standing in front of the large bay window, looking out on the hustle and bustle of a busy London street. All around him are boxes full of his belongings, and his furniture have been expertly put into place by the removal company. The high ceilings, magnolia walls and shiny wooden flooring of the Bayswater flat should make it easy for him to like the place, but in truth Dominic’s heart aches for his flat in Cardiff.

It is a sunny day in London, and Dominic catches himself just watching the people passing down on the pavement, like he did so many times sitting on his windowsill in Cardiff. He gives the floor-to-ceiling windows of his London flat a dejected look, irrationally missing his windowsill.

With a sigh, Dominic drops down on the floor and leans against the wide wooden window frame, pulling his knees up to his chest.

His phone vibrating against the hardwood floor interrupts his thoughts. He reaches out and picks it up without getting up off the floor. A text message sits on his lock screen, and it puts a smile on his face.

**I miss you already, Blondie xx**

Dominic unlocks his phone and types out a reply.

_**I miss you too. Can’t wait until Saturday xx** _

Hal’s reply comes in quickly.

**Me neither. Although I have to warn you that Leo’s old car hasn’t done a journey like that since we arrived in Barry. Might be too much for it.**

Dominic snorts out a laugh.

_**Perhaps I should give you a new car for your birthd-** _

He pauses mid-word, suddenly becoming painfully aware that he has no idea when Hal’s birthday actually is. He finishes the message and follows it up immediately with another one.

_**When is your birthday? Xx** _

This time it takes some time for Hal to get back to him. He is almost tempted to send another message, when his phone vibrates in his hand.

**8th September**

Dominic looks at the message for a long time, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat.

_**That’s not your birthday, Hal.** _

Hal once again doesn’t reply immediately, and the lump in Dominic’s throat moves further south, making his chest constrict. Does Hal seriously consider the day of his recruitment to be his birthday? Despite his best efforts, the thought makes him feel slightly nauseous.

**Says who?**

_**Hal. What is your actual birthday?** _

**I told you. 8th September. If that’s not good enough for you, I can’t really help you I’m afraid.**

Dominic has a sudden urge to throw his phone against the flawlessly painted magnolia wall. Then a different thought occurs to him.

_**You don’t know, do you?** _

This time he doesn’t have to wait long for Hal’s reply.

**No, I don’t.**

_**I’m sorry.** _

**Don’t be. I never knew. It’s just one of those things.**

Dominic gives a sad little smile at the matter of fact response.

**_I’m sorry regardless._ **

**When’s yours?**

Hal’s reply takes him slightly off guard. Have they really never spoken about this before?

_**1st January** _

**Good to know, I’ll make sure I’ll get you something nice xx**

Dominic smiles.

_**Oh yes? Xx** _

**Yes xx**

_**Can’t wait xx** _

Dominic quickly types out another message.

_**We’ll need to find one for you.** _

**What’s wrong with 8th September?**

Dominic looks at his screen incredulously. Is Hal actually being serious?

_**I refuse to celebrate that day, Hal.** _

**If it hadn’t been for that day, you would never have met me.**

Dominic stares at Hal’s reply and his throat constricts. He knows rationally that what Hal said is true, but how can he possibly reply to that? The thought that, if Hal had stayed human, he would have died on a battlefield almost five hundred years ago, causes a fresh wave of nausea in his gut. There is a horrible little voice at the back of his mind that reminds him that technically Hal _did_ die five hundred years ago on a battlefield, and he feels about ready to heave. Realising that he hasn’t yet sent a reply to Hal’s message, he quickly starts typing again.

_**How is Tasha settling in?** _

He knows it’s cowardly but just isn’t able to bring up the courage to further discuss the previous topic.

**She’s doing all right. I think she misses you.**

Dominic smiles at the response. God, he misses her too. Her and Hal and his old flat and Honolulu Heights and the Archive and…

He feels himself choke up slightly as he thinks about the life he left behind in Wales, and he realises that despite his best efforts, he is feeling desperately homesick. And he has only been in London for less than a day.

_**I’ll come back for a visit in two weeks’ time.** _

He texts quickly, reminding Hal as much as himself of his planned weekend visit to Honolulu Heights.

**I know. She’ll be thrilled to see you.**

Dominic smiles when a moment later his phone vibrates again.

 **And so will I xx**   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The birthday conversation at the end of this chapter literally came out of nowhere, but after I'd written it I liked it so much that I really wanted to keep it in, so I did. For that purpose, I have shamelessly stolen Steven Robertson's date of birth, for which I apologise.


	22. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hal grabs his hand and pulls him off his seat and towards the door of the Jubilee Line train as soon as the announcement of 'London Bridge' blares through the speakers. The Type 2 seems to be buzzing with nervous energy ever since they left Dominic’s flat about half an hour ago. His eyes are alive and shining tonight, and it makes him look utterly beautiful, Dominic muses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much once again for reading. I'm once again going through a bit of a rough patch personally at the moment, so if you've come this far and are still enjoying the story, I would be eternally grateful to hear some positive feedback :)
> 
> Unlike Chapter 21, which proved to be a little unwieldy to write, this one has been flowing really well and I'm happy with the result. 
> 
> In case anyone is interested, the pub mentioned in this chapter is The Anchor Bankside. 
> 
> Oh, and I'm sorry about the cliffhanger!

I swear to god  
In this light and on this evening  
London's become  
The most beautiful thing I've seen

\- Editors, “In This Light And On This Evening”

  
Leo’s old car miraculously made it all the way to London, and Hal lets out a relieved breath as he parks the blue Mercedes and walks up to the impressive white Victorian terrace. He can feel a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow, signalling the early stage of blood withdrawal. Even with the flask that Dominic left for him, it has been a bit of a stretch to not see his human for a whole week.

His eyes flick up to the large windows, and he wonders which ones belong to Dominic’s flat. He takes the few steps up to the front door and looks at the doorbells.

D ROOK jumps out at him immediately, and he presses the small brass button with no small amount of urgency.

“Hello?” Dominic’s familiar voice sounds through the intercom.

“Hey, it’s me,” Hal says, and can’t help the small smile that forms at hearing his boyfriend’s voice.

“Let me buzz you in,” says Dominic, “I’m on the second floor.” And a moment later, the heavy black wooden door gives way with a loud buzz.

Hal looks around the large foyer and lets his eyes drift between the lift and the stairs, deciding to use the latter. Truth be told, he has never been that fond of lifts.

As soon as he reaches the second floor landing, Hal’s eyes fall on the blond man standing in the wide-open doorway. He strides over and a moment later finds himself with an armful of Dominic.

“I missed you,” Dominic mutters, his arms come up around him and his hands roam all over his back, and the next moment he feels Dominic’s soft lips on his own.

“Missed you too,” Hal says, lips brushing against Dominic’s as he speaks. Then his mouth moves without his conscious control and his lips rest against Dominic’s pulse point. He takes a deep breath in, savouring the deliciously sweet smell of Dominic’s blood. “Missed you so much,” he breathes into Dominic’s neck.

He can feel Dominic’s pulse speed up against his lips. Dominic’s head dips down slightly to capture Hal’s mouth in another heated kiss, and his hands come back around to his lapels and start pulling him forwards, through the open doorway. Hal kisses him back hungrily when suddenly he feels an invisible wall hitting him square in the forehead and chest, and his skin prickles and heats up uncomfortably. He brings his hands up to grab Dominic’s, trying to stop his insistent pull.

“Stop,” he gasps into Dominic’s mouth. “Stop, please.”

Dominic’s grip on him loosens slightly for a moment, but his lips are still on his and Hal finds it hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of Dominic against him and the alluring smell of his blood. The next moment, Dominic is pulling him again, and his head explodes in white-hot pain.

“Dominic, stop! If you don’t want me to burst into flames right here in front of you, you have to invite me in!”

Dominic freezes. His hands drop away from Hal’s coat and his eyes widen almost comically as he stares at Hal with blatant terror in his eyes.

“Oh God, Hal, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Come in.”

Hal feels the invisible barrier dissipate in front of him, and he brings a hand up to Dominic’s face, running his thumb over his cheek.

“I’d forgive you if it was the first time, but you seem to be making a habit out of this,” he says with raised eyebrows, pecking him on the tip of his nose.

Dominic blushes bright crimson. “I really am sorry, Hal.”

Hal can feel laughter bubbling up in him at the absurdity of the situation. He tries and fails to hold it inside, and it comes out in a loud burst.

Dominic looks mortified. “It’s not funny. I could have killed you!”

Hal grins widely and takes a step into the hallway of Dominic’s flat, closing the door behind him.

“I think you would have noticed before then,” he says, but Dominic just shakes his head.

“Not funny,” he mutters with a pout.

Hal sighs. “Certainly killed the mood, hasn’t it?”

The look he gives Dominic, however, hopefully conveys a different message as he slowly closes the gap between them again, hands coming up to Dominic’s hips and his thumbs caressing the bit of skin he can find between the waistband of his trousers and the black Henley shirt that reminds him a lot of one of his own. In fact…

“Is this one of mine?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and a smile, then leans in and gives Dominic a quick peck on the lips.

He can feel Dominic’s forehead move against his in a nod. “Sorry,” he breathes.

“Don’t apologise, it looks very sexy on you,” Hal says, voice dropping low.

“You think so?” Dominic asks, and Hal can’t help but roll his eyes inwardly at how insecure he sounds. Does the man have no concept of how attractive he is to Hal?

“Most definitely,” he confirms and kisses him again, more passionately this time, gripping his hips and pushing him up against the wall. Dominic’s hands come up to his head and his long fingers thread through his hair, and he lets out a low moan as Hal takes his bottom lip between his teeth, careful not to unsheathe his fangs quite yet.

“Mmmh,” Dominic moans against his lips. “Want more. Want to feel you…” His tongue slips out and nudges against Hal’s lips, asking for entry. Hal obliges, and Dominic let’s out a little happy sound as his tongue explores his mouth, moves against his own, then runs along his gums and teeth. Something changes in Dominic then and he pulls back, resting his forehead against Hal’s and fixing his impossibly blue eyes on him. His chest is heaving as he says, “I want to feel them, Hal.”

It takes Hal a moment to understand what he means, and his heart gives a little lurch when he does. He feels a frown forming on his face.

“Dominic—”

“Please, Hal,” Dominic says, voice shaking slightly. “I know what you’re trying to say, but I know you want it as much as I do.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” says Hal, bringing a little bit of distance between them and looking deeply into Dominic’s eyes. “You shouldn’t want it as much as I do.”

Dominic sighs deeply and drops his head to the side, looking away. Hal can see his cheeks flushing pink again. He swallows, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation is going.

Hal reaches out a hand to touch his face, but Dominic pulls away, taking a few steps down the hallway and through a large open door that leads to what Hal would guess is the living room. He heaves a sigh and follows Dominic into the large, airy room. All of Dominic’s furniture are here, but in the corner there is a high stack of unopened boxes, and the mirror that used to hang over the mantelpiece leans, wrapped up in a white sheet, against one of the walls.

Dominic stands forlornly in the middle of the room, wringing his hands. It painfully reminds Hal of the first time he ever went to see him in his Cardiff flat.

“Dominic, listen…” he starts, and Dominic’s eyes come up to meet his own. Hal gives him a small smile, but Dominic seems unable to return it. “I’m sorry,” he says and starts to move towards Dominic, but freezes as he sees the man tense at his approach. “I… shouldn’t have said what I did,” Hal continues with a sigh, moving over to the large bay window and looking out onto the busy street. “I have no right to judge.”

Dominic barks out a mirthless laugh. “No.”

“I know that. But I also need to make sure that what we do is… safe. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Hal continues to look out the window, not turning to see Dominic’s reaction.

He hears Dominic’s footsteps approaching him, and a moment later the man’s arms circle around his waist, his warm presence settling in behind him.

“I do this because I trust you, Hal. It’s not like I’ve got some kind of death wish…” He trails off for a moment, then clears his throat and continues speaking, his chin coming to rest on Hal’s shoulder. “What I mean to say is, I know you’re going to keep me safe.”

Hal releases a dark chuckle. “Do you? I wish I had such confidence in myself.” He turns around in Dominic’s arms, turning serious eyes on him. “Haven’t you read my file?” There is a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice that he didn’t intend.

Dominic, luckily, chooses to ignore it. “You know I have,” he says instead, a slight frown on his face. “But I also told you that I don’t believe you are that man anymore. Not at this moment in time.”

“But for how much longer, Dominic? When am I going to break and lose control? I need you to be prepared for that. Speaking of which,” he adds and pulls a small wooden stake from his pocket, carefully holding it out between them. “You seem to have misplaced yours.”

“Hal…” Dominic starts, looking at the stake but making no move to take it. He looks up into Hal’s eyes. “Is this one of Tom’s?”

Hal nods. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t miss it.”

With a sigh, Dominic lifts his hand to take the stake from him, and Hal lets out a breath of relief.

“Thank you,” he says, lifting Dominic’s chin up with his now free hand and once again closing the gap between them, brushing his lips against Dominic’s.

The kiss quickly heats up, and Hal can feel Dominic’s tongue probing in between his lips again.

“Hmm,” Hal moans into Dominic’s mouth, his own tongue coming to meet Dominic’s, while his hands come up to push the other man backwards, against the empty wall.

Dominic lets out a forceful breath as his back hits the wall, and whispers, “Go on, Hal,” into his mouth. There’s no ambiguity in his meaning, and Hal feels his self-control slipping as Dominic’s heartbeat speeds up. His mouth moves down from Dominic’s lips to the crook of his neck, and he gives in.

***

“I want to take you out,” Dominic hears Hal murmur into his hair as his head rests against Hal’s shoulder. He almost nodded off on the sofa after their earlier encounter, he realises, and straightens up a bit against the backrest, lifting his head.

“Out? Where?” His voice sounds groggy and slightly hoarse.

Hal chuckles. “Did you go to sleep?”

“No!” Dominic protests, a slight indignant frown forming on his face, but Hal just chuckles again and leans in to peck his lips.

“It’s okay, you know. I always feel sleepy after…” he trails off, but Dominic doesn’t need him to finish. He knows full well what the Type 2 is talking about.

“Well, I’m not you,” Dominic says with a raised eyebrow. “Anyway, out where?”

Hal clears his throat. “I was thinking, since we’re in London… you seem to have a particular interest in hearing about my childhood, so I thought I’d show you where I grew up.” His voice is quiet, uncertain, and his eyes wander to look out the large bay window as he adds, “I’ve heard it’s quite a trendy place to go to nowadays.”

“That’s a great idea, Hal,” Dominic says with a smile, bringing up a hand to turn his head to face him again before kissing him. “I’d love to see where you grew up.” Then a thought occurs to him and he frowns. “Does the actual building still exist?” he asks.

He swears there is a slight blush creeping into Hal’s cheeks, and he blames the Type 2’s recent blood intake for the phenomenon. “I believe so, yes. Well, no, technically it was destroyed in the Great Fire in 1666, but they rebuilt it afterwards, and from I understand it still looks pretty much the same. I haven’t been there for many years.”

Dominic’s brows furrow slightly. “Are you sure you want to go, Hal? You told me that you don’t have particularly good memories of your childhood. I don’t want to bring any of that back.”

Hal shakes his head and smiles. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yes, but—”

“I want to take you there, okay? Stop overanalysing everything, please.” There is a slight edge to Hal’s voice that makes Dominic tense and inch away from him slightly. Hal seems to realise what is happening, as his expression softens and he adds, “I’m sorry. Please, Dominic?”

Dominic nods. “Of course. I already said I’d love to go.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Hal says and stands up, holding a hand out for Dominic. When he stands up as well, Hal’s eyes fall to the bite marks on his neck. “Maybe change your shirt?”

Dominic blushes, but nods. “Just give me a minute.”

***

Hal grabs his hand and pulls him off his seat and towards the door of the Jubilee Line train as soon as the announcement of “London Bridge” blares through the speakers. The Type 2 seems to be buzzing with nervous energy ever since they left Dominic’s flat about half an hour ago. His eyes are alive and shining tonight, and it makes him look utterly beautiful, Dominic muses. He hasn’t been able to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend for the entire journey, doing his best to ignore the alarm bells at the back of his mind that insist on reminding him about the inherent risks of taking a Type 2 on a train. He has been to inspect the interior of the Box Tunnel carriage, and the images have burned themselves into his mind’s eye, never to be forgotten.

But this is Hal, not… subject #UX529, whatever his name was. Hal is safe, Dominic is making sure of that. There is no reason to be worried. Is there?

He is shaken from his thoughts by Hal’s insistent pull on his hand. “Come on, Dominic, or do you want to miss the stop?”

With a sigh, Dominic shakes off the disturbing thoughts and follows Hal through the open doors and down the platform to the exit. Hal doesn’t let go of his hand, he notices, but who is he to complain? It makes him glow with an unknown, warm, fuzzy feeling to be showing off their relationship so openly.

“You okay?” Hal asks, turning around to him as they stand on the seemingly endless escalator that takes them back up to ground level. Still his hand is holding on to Dominic’s, cool skin comforting in his grasp.

Dominic nods quickly. “Yes, sorry. Got lost in thought.” He gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Hal smiles back at him warmly. “You hungry?” he asks suddenly.

Dominic’s eyebrows shoot up. “Looking to feed me again?” he teases, and Hal sighs and rolls his eyes, but gives him an exasperated smile.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No,” says Dominic and shakes his head. “But anyway, why were you asking?” he tries again.

“Well,” Hal starts, eyes still so bright with excitement. “I’ve heard that they serve excellent food nowadays.”

Dominic knows it’s a bit of a low blow when he replies, “Are you going to eat something as well?”

Hal swallows and nods, perhaps a little too quickly. “Of course. I won’t take you out for dinner and not order anything for myself.”

“In that case, yes, I’m starving,” Dominic says and grins at him. They arrive at the top of the escalator and quickly cross the station to the exit. It’s a short walk from the station to their destination, and Hal points out various landmarks to him on the way , like the market that he used to visit to buy food and other supplies for the brothel, and the place where the barber’s shop used to be where he would get his hair cut.

“So you were an errand boy,” Dominic says, and Hal nods.

“Amongst other things.”

Dominic gives him a sharp look, but decides not to spoil the moment and instead lets his gaze wander to the other side of the road

“There was a tailor’s just here,” Hal says, pointing to a building now housing a sushi bar. “Although I didn’t get to go there all that much. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs.” At Dominic’s slight frown, he adds, “You didn’t expect me to be the first, did you?”

Dominic’s frown deepens. In all honesty, he has tried not to give it too much thought. Which is probably the reason he still hasn’t asked Hal about… the other thing.

“Anyway, it’s not much further now,” Hal says a little too loudly, pulling at his hand again as they follow the narrow alley and pass underneath the railway bridge.

Hal suddenly slows to a stop on the pavement as they approach an old looking brick building with bright red windows.

“This is it,” he says flatly, and his previous energy seems to have seeped out of him at the sight. Dominic’s brow furrows as he looks from the old-fashioned building to the shadow that has cast itself on Hal’s face, his jaw set and eyes stony as they seem fixed on a particular window on the ground floor.

“Are you sure you are okay with this?” asks Dominic quietly, and brings his free hand up to brush it against Hal’s cheek.

Hal nods and turns his face down to Dominic’s, giving him a quick kiss. “Yes, I’m fine. I… haven’t been back here for a long time, that’s all.”

Dominic captures his mouth in another, longer kiss, before he pulls away slightly and turns around to the building again. “So this is where you were born.”

Hal nods. “Yes.” He looks around him, a crease appearing on his brow. “It looked very different back then.” Dominic follows his gaze, taking in the surrounding buildings and the alley leading down towards the river. Hal follows his gaze for a long moment, then gives a little pull on his hand. “Ready to go inside?” he asks, nodding towards the pub.

Dominic bites his lip and nods. “Let’s go.”

The inside of the pub is cosy and inviting, and Dominic lets his eyes wander around the large room slowly, trying to picture in his mind’s eye how it may have looked five hundred years ago. He looks sideways at Hal and notices that the Type 2 has frozen in the doorway, swallowing around an obvious lump in his throat.

“Are you okay?” Dominic asks, squeezing Hal’s hand in his.

Hal, as if waking up from a sudden flashback, clears his throat loudly and says, “Yeah, fine.”

Dominic gives him a sad smile. “If you think coming back here was a bad idea… we can go, if you want.”

But Hal determinedly shakes his head. “No. No, let’s stay. Where would you like to sit?”

They take a seat at a table by a window, and a moment later a waiter arrives to take their orders. They both order mains and desserts – to Dominic’s unending surprise – and Hal also orders an outrageously expensive bottle of Argentine Malbec to share between them.

“Any news on the video footage?” Dominic speaks into the silence after a moment, and Hal’s head snaps up. He seems to have been lost in thought again.

“No, nothing,” he says, shaking his head with a sigh. “It’s like he realised we are on to him, and he’s covering his tracks.” There is another moment’s silence, before Hal adds, “Are you and Alex seriously still planning to break into Scotland Yard?”

Dominic lifts his eyebrows at Hal, moving his eyes left and right to indicate that they are in public and might easily be overheard. “Have you got any better ideas? Because if you do, I’d surely like to hear them.”

Hal shakes his head. “I don’t. I just don’t think that this is a good idea at all, it’s too risky.”

“It’s the best lead we’ve got, Hal. That, and one other thing.”

Hal’s eyes meet his. “One other thing?” he asks, suddenly seeming very interested.

They are interrupted by the waiter arriving with their wine, pouring out a generous glass for both Hal and Dominic. Dominic watches Hal lift the glass into the air and giving it a long, hard look, eyes darkening slightly, and Dominic feels butterflies in his stomach when he recognises that look. Then Hal closes his eyes and lifts the glass to his lips, takes a sip, and places it back down on the table. When he opens his eyes to meet Dominic’s, they are bright hazel again.

“One other thing?” Hal repeats a moment later.

“Yes, there is… another lead, if you will. A Type 2 living in the Oxford area, who has a vast knowledge of supernatural lore. He has collaborated with my department previously, so may be persuaded to help us with this issue.”

He looks at Hal and sees him tense up, eyes widening fractionally. “A vampire? Who?”

“I believe his name is Regus something,” Dominic says, and Hal groans.

“Oh, please, not Regus again.”

Dominic narrows his eyes. “You know him?”

Hal lowers his voice and looks straight into Dominic’s eyes when he says, “I’ve lived for five hundred years, Dominic. I think there are very few vampires around that I haven’t met.”

Dominic nods, but before he gets a chance to reply, they are interrupted again with their food arriving. They sit in companionable silence after this, both focussing on eating, and looking at each other across the table. Hal has visibly relaxed since their short conversation, which seems to have taken his mind off the unpleasant memories he was obviously reliving upon their entrance, and he actually makes a valiant attempt at finishing his plate, which Dominic comments on.

“You’re having a good appetite today,” he says, and is taken by surprise by the stormy look in Hal’s eyes when he looks at him in response.

“Don’t tempt me,” he says, voice husky and low, still staring straight into his eyes, and Dominic swallows compulsively to loosen the lump in his throat. There is something different about Hal’s responses to him today. Somehow he appears more… primal, more animalistic, and Dominic is shocked to realise that it makes him incredibly horny.

When they leave the pub a short while later, it is with Hal taking hold of his hand again, almost possessively, and all Dominic thinks is that he can very much get used to this. It is dark outside, and he lets his eyes wander across the many lights brightening up the London sky, reflecting off the calm surface of the river. He pulls Hal down the opposite way to how they had come, down towards the river, and they walk along the promenade. Dominic looks around him, at all the brightly lit buildings and the people enjoying time out with their loved ones, and then at Hal, eyes shining in the night sky, and he tips his head up to brush his lips against Hal’s. Hal’s hand cradles his head as he kisses him back, and they stand like that for a long moment.

 _I love you,_ he thinks, and in that moment he knows without a doubt in his mind that it is true, but he can’t bring up the courage to say it.

They continue their walk along the waterfront. At one point, they wander in-land again, in search for a tube station, and before long Hal looks at him with an embarrassed frown on his face. “I have to admit that I don’t recognise this place,” he says sheepishly, and Dominic’s eyes look around him, feeling just as lost. There are no other people around, he realises, so asking someone for directions is out of the question too.

“Let’s just keep walking,” he suggests, “I’m sure we’ll see something familiar eventually.”

The lights become sparser as they walk further away from the river, and Dominic feels the hairs on his arms standing up with unease. He grips Hal’s hand tighter, but keeps walking. They round a corner, and he can feel a whoosh of air from somewhere, and the next moment there is a heavy weight pressing him against a brick wall, a forearm against his chest and, he realises with a sudden jolt of panic, the tip of a knife against his throat. He lifts his eyes to look at his attacker, but the man’s face is hidden in a mask and hood, showing him only a pair of cold, dark eyes. Somehow in the flurry of movement, he has let go of Hal’s hand. Where is Hal? Dominic’s eyes look sideways and see the Type 2 standing there, frozen in place and stony faced.

“Your phone and your wallet,” the masked man croaks, “and no one needs to get hurt.”

“Get away from him,” Dominic hears Hal’s voice, low and even and with no small amount of threat.

The masked man laughs, slightly hysterically, looking at Hal. “Are you trying to threaten me? Seriously, man?” Turning back towards Dominic, he repeats, “Phone and wallet, now.”

“I won’t say it again,” Hal says with a deadly calm. “Get away from him. Now.”

“Hal, don’t,” Dominic says, turning his head slightly to look at Hal. As he moves, the masked man suddenly lets out a loud whoop and a dark chuckle.

“Man, look at this,” he says and pulls Dominic’s shirt collar away from his neck with the hand holding the knife, the other arm still across his chest. Dominic sees the man’s eyes fall on the bite marks on his neck, and he feels sick. “You guys are into some pretty kinky shit, huh?” the man cackles, then gives Dominic a wink. “If it’s blood play you’re after, maybe I can do you a little favour,” he says and pushes the tip of the knife back against his neck. Dominic inhales sharply as the blade cuts into his skin, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Hal springing into action the moment the knife nicks a vein.

The Type 2 is moving with lightning speed, pushing the masked man off Dominic and shoving him into the wall. The man’s skull connects with the wall with a loud thud, and Hal grabs his collar, staring at him with a look in his eyes that Dominic has never seen there, that frightens him to the core.

“Hal?” he asks, but the Type 2 ignores him.

“You should really not have done that,” comes out of Hal’s mouth, but in a voice that is not his own. Dominic stares with wide eyes as Hal pulls the man’s hood down with a deadly calm, and then his gaze falls onto the man’s neck and his eyes shift to black.

“Hal, no!” Dominic shouts, but he knows it’s too late. Hal gives him one fleeting, black-eyed look before sinking his fangs into the man’s throat. 


	23. The Other One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dominic’s heart hammers in his chest and a cold shiver runs down his spine as he watches Hal tearing into the man’s carotid, slowly sucking the life energy out of him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos, it means a lot!
> 
> I don't want to say too much about this chapter, other than it was an incredibly intense experience writing it, and it's probably ended up being my favourite chapter so far.
> 
> Enjoy!

It's the first sign of an affliction  
Familiarity of an addiction  
That old friend's a welcome sight  
I like it when I see him  
He covers up the world we live in  
Lights a firework in my pocket  
Some friends are worth the fight

\- Editors, “Darkness at the Door”

  
Dominic’s heart hammers in his chest and a cold shiver runs down his spine as he watches Hal tearing into the man’s carotid, slowly sucking the life energy out of him.

“Hal, stop, please,” he croaks, but his plea falls on deaf ears as Hal just keeps going and going until the man’s limp body falls from his grasp and slides down the dirty brick wall. Hal turns around to him then, chin dripping with blood, eyes wild and burning into him.

Dominic has forgotten how to move, it seems, as his body isn’t obeying his commands. He is rooted to the spot, eyes flicking between Hal and the heap of the man’s body on the floor. What has he done? What has he _done? What has he done?_

Dominic is torn from his mind’s unbidden mantra by a group of voices coming closer. Hal turns to him and grabs his hand in a painful grip. “We have to go,” he whispers harshly before breaking into a run, pulling Dominic along behind him.

“Hal, we can’t just leave the body there!” Dominic calls after him, but there is no stopping the Type 2, it seems, as he continues to run down the dark street at breakneck speed.

Dominic does his best to keep up with Hal, but is more aware than ever of the Type 2’s supernatural strength and speed, and his already fast beating heart threatens to burst out of his chest, his lungs not supplying enough oxygen. When they turn a corner into a narrower alley, Dominic gives Hal’s hand an insistent tug and gasps, “Hal, stop. I need to stop.”

It seems to take a few seconds for the message to get through to Hal, but finally he feels the iron grip on his hand loosen to a tolerable degree as the Type 2 slows to a standstill. He turns around to Dominic, who takes the opportunity to heave in much needed gulps of air, heartbeat pulsing in his ears, and lifts his eyes to really take in the figure in front of him.

Hal’s mouth and chin are still covered in blood, and the look he gives Dominic is positively feral. Hal doesn’t move at all, doesn’t speak, just looks at him with those wild, intense eyes. It is only in that moment that the full weight of the situation sinks in. Hal has killed a man. Right in front of him. And he stood by and did nothing.

 _“For how much longer, Dominic? When am I going to break and lose control? I need you to be prepared for that.”_ Hal’s words from earlier today echo in his head, and he swallows around the painful lump in his throat. Is this it? The moment he was speaking of? Is he about to break? Has he already?

“Hal?” he asks feebly, hardly enough air in his lungs to form proper words.

Hal gives him a smile, then, and it chills Dominic to the bone. “Dominic,” he says in that voice, the one he used with the mugger, that doesn’t sound at all like his own. “You surprise me,” Hal continues, and all Dominic wants is for him to stop talking. “I thought you would have your stake out in no time, putting an end to the supernatural threat. Yet here you are, on the run with me.” Hal lifts a hand and runs his fingers along his cheek, and Dominic barely suppresses a shudder. “You’re so loyal, aren’t you, my Dominic?”

Dominic finds that the lump in his throat makes it impossible for him to reply, although he wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Is this… him? The other Hal, the one he has been so terrified of reverting to?

“Oh, I want to kiss you, my Dominic, but I better be careful,” he heaves a long, dramatic sigh. “Don’t want you to catch anything. You never know with these street thugs, do you? I do want to keep you around for a while.” His thumb brushes along Dominic’s bottom lip. “And those infections really do spoil the taste.” At this, he licks some of the wayward blood off his lips and makes a face.

“Hal, stop, please,” Dominic says, then continues with the first thing that comes to his mind, just so he doesn’t have to listen to Hal’s sickening monologue anymore. “We need to go back and dispose of the body.”

Hal lets out a harsh laugh. “Seriously, Dominic? What exactly do you want to do with it?”

“My job,” Dominic bites out, and narrows his eyes at Hal. “Something I’ve obviously been neglecting for far too long.”

Hal hoots loudly and grins at Dominic, “Ooh, such spark. That’s what I love about you, my Dominic.” He rummages in his jacket pocket and pulls out a handkerchief similar to the one he used in the Archive what now feels like a lifetime ago. He quickly wipes his mouth clean and winks at Dominic, then he reaches out again and touches his index finger to the small cut in Dominic’s neck, which up until this moment, he had all but forgotten about. He lifts his finger to his lips and licks the blood off, eyes boring into Dominic. “Mmmh, that’s better. Did you know you’re my favourite blood type?” He raises his eyebrows at Dominic.

Dominic swallows and says, “I didn’t know there was a difference.” Not that that’s something he really wants to spend any time thinking about.

“Oh, there is a difference. And yours is… oh it’s delicious, Dominic.” There is a short pause before he continues, “Now, let’s not be ridiculous. We leave the body where it is, and no one is going to be any the wiser. You know as well as I do that the police are hopeless when it comes to vampire killings.” He casts a look down to the entrance to the alley. “Nevertheless, we probably shouldn’t stick around.”

Dominic feels nausea rising in his gut the longer he has to listen to Hal speaking. He realises that he doesn’t even know who this Hal is anymore. In all honesty, all he really wants in this moment is to get far away from him. Gathering all the courage he has left, he gives Hal a defiant look and says, “Why do you think I will go anywhere with you?”

Hal just gives him another one of those chilling smiles. “Because you love me.”

It feels like all sound has suddenly disappeared from the alley, as if his head is underwater, and all he can hear is a persistent rush of blood in his own ears. He is once again unable to speak, and as much as he wants to deny it, he finds that he can’t. He is vaguely aware of Hal grabbing his hand again and pulling him further along the alley, and he puts one foot in front of the other mechanically, all free will seemingly having left him in this moment.

He isn’t entirely sure, thinking back afterwards, how they made it back to his flat. Hal led him across the dark city to the nearest tube station, studied the map for a long moment, and pulled him along with him down the escalators to board another Jubilee Line train, and he kept Dominic’s hand firmly in his own as they sat side by side while the train made it’s choppy journey across London. Another station, another platform, another train, rinse and repeat.

Standing on the landing in front of the heavy white door and rummaging for his keys, Dominic feels a wave of nausea passing through his stomach. He doesn’t want this Hal to come into his flat, doesn’t want him anywhere near him. He briefly considers rescinding the invitation, but Hal’s hand on his own shaking one as he tries to put the key in the lock stops him.

“I know what you’re thinking, Dominic. Don’t do it.”

Dominic whirls around to him, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “So you can read minds now?” he scoffs.

Hal rolls his eyes and sighs. “No. I just know you. It’s not bloody rocket science.”

Dominic drops his hand away from the door and turns to fully face the Type 2. “Give me one good reason not to, _Hal_.” He forces out the name, although his mind screams at him that that name doesn’t belong to this monster before him anymore.

Hal runs a hand over the back of his own, so gently, and all Dominic wants to do is recoil from the touch, but he once again finds himself powerless to do anything. Then Hal’s fingers take the key out of his own and he unlocks the door. “I already have,” is all he says before he steps over the threshold into the wide hallway.

***

Hal is sure he can feel every muscle in his body as he wakes up, because every single one of them is aching. His neck clicks painfully as he lifts his head off the pillow and takes a careful look around the room to get his bearings. Dark blue curtains are drawn across a large window, letting only a small sliver of light into the room, which Hal is grateful for. His head feels like it might be only seconds away from exploding.

The covers smell of Dominic, is the next thing he notices, but the smell is faint, at least a day old, so the man has definitely not slept here with him last night. Why would he be in Dominic’s bed on his own? Where is Dominic?

Hal slowly sits up and regrets it immediately as a fresh burst of pain explodes in his head. What the hell happened last night? The only times he has ever felt like this were—

Oh, no.

Hal closes his eyes as fragments of the previous night play in front of his mind’s eye like a film. The memories are not entirely his own, and he watches with morbid fascination as his other self tore into the street mugger’s throat, sucking every last drop of blood from the lifeless body. Dominic was there, standing right next to him, watching, waiting. Why did he wait? Why didn’t he do anything?

Why didn’t he stake him?

Hal replays the conversation _he_ had with Dominic in his mind and groans loudly. No wonder Dominic didn’t sleep in bed with him last night – it’s a miracle he even let him into the flat in the first place. Hal wouldn’t blame him if after today he would never want to see him again.

Last night’s events keep repeating themselves in Hal’s mind, and he feels the power, the hunger, the pure, sweet bliss of taking the thug’s life, more intoxicating even than the blood itself—

He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. _No. You can’t allow yourself to think like that,_ his rational mind argues.

 _But why not?_ The other one suddenly pipes up in his head, and Hal almost chokes on the breath he has been taking. _Admit it. You enjoyed it. Even now, you’re reliving it because you loved every single second of it. You want it again. Don’t you want it again?_

 _No,_ Hal replies firmly, but he can feel his resolve slipping even as he thinks it. _No. No, I don’t. I… maybe. Maybe I… Yes._

He balls his hands into fists until his nails dig painfully into his palms, letting out another agonised groan. His head hurts. Everything hurts. His stomach is cramping. He needs something to take the pain away. He needs… he needs…

He needs blood.

Just a small amount, to make the pain go away.

Suddenly Hal remembers the emergency flask of blood that he packed in his bag before setting off to London, in case he got delayed on the way. He gets up and out of bed in lightning speed, ignoring his aching head and body, and frantically looks around the room for his overnight bag. It’s nowhere to be seen.

Hal moves over towards the door, only realising at the last minute that he is only in his boxer briefs. He doesn’t remember stripping out of his clothes, but then again, he doesn’t remember a lot of what happened last night. He looks around the room for his clothes and locates them carefully folded on a chair in the corner. He pulls on his slacks and shirt and makes his way out of Dominic’s bedroom, still in search of his bag.

Try as he might, he can’t remember where he put it last night before they left for Southwark. It’s not in the hallway. He wouldn’t have left his bag in the kitchen or bathroom, Hal reasons, so the only other logical place would be the living room. As quietly as he can, he opens the living room door, and is greeted by the sight of Dominic fast asleep on the white three-seater, a dark grey blanket covering his abdomen and legs.

Hal wants to say that he looks peaceful in his sleep, but the truth is that there are deep frown lines on his face, as if he is having a bad dream.

_Three guesses what he is dreaming about._

Hal wills the voice in his head to shut up as his eyes dart frantically around the room in search of his bag. Then he sees it, sitting against the wall next to the door. Dropping down to the floor, he opens the zip with nimble fingers and reaches inside, rummaging around until his fingers close around the flask.

He lifts it from his bag and unscrews it quickly, taking a frantic gulp.

“So soon?” Dominic’s voice is icy and distant. He turns around to see the man sitting up on the sofa, giving him a cold stare. He drops the flask from his lips and looks at Dominic with wide, imploring eyes.

“Dominic,” he croaks, but doesn’t know how to continue as Dominic gets up and walks over to the window, looking outside, ignoring him.

A few long moments pass before the man speaks again. “I want you to leave, Hal.”

Hal feels his stomach dropping at the cold detachment in Dominic’s voice. He would have been able to take it if he shouted at him. But this? This he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Please, Dominic. I’m sor—”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence, _Hal_.” There is contempt in his voice as he says his name, and Hal’s throat constricts as he stands and looks at the man he loves. The man he may have lost forever now.

But not completely. Not yet. He is not going to give up without a fight.

“Dominic, please listen,” he says. He is very aware of the flask still in his hand, and it calls to him. Oh, does it call to him. His hand twitches, but he refuses to lift it back up to his lips. He has to get this out first. Dominic chooses that moment to turn back around to him, eyes darting from the flask in his hand up to his face. His jaw is set and his eyes are stony.

“What is it, _Hal_?”

“Please stop saying my name like that,” Hal starts, because it cuts him like a knife each time he hears that contempt in the other man’s voice.

“I don’t even know which one of you I’m talking to right now, Hal!” snaps Dominic.

Hal takes a deep breath. “It’s me,” he says, as if that really explains anything.

Dominic seems to get his meaning though, it seems, as he replies, “So what happened to the other one?”

“He’s gone… for now,” Hal says, ignoring the quiet laughter at the back of his mind. He will deal with _him_ later.

Dominic’s expression softens ever so slightly at hearing his words. “Are you sure?” he asks, and Hal nods.

“Positive. It’s me, Dominic, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for what happened.”

Dominic huffs. “I told you not to fucking apologise to me, Hal. I don’t think an apology can cut it, do you?”

The call of the blood in his hand is getting too hard to ignore. With a sigh, he mutters, “Excuse me,” before lifting the flask back to his mouth and taking a couple of hungry gulps. Some of the aches in his body are starting to lift as the sweet liquid runs down his throat, and he briefly closes his eyes to savour it.

“I would have thought you had more than enough of that last night.” Dominic’s voice is still angry, but some of the bite is gone from it.

“Never mind that,” Hal says, opening his eyes to look at Dominic again. “I… what happened last night… you have to understand that I did what I did because he was hurting you, Dominic,” he says in a rush. “He was hurting you, and I just saw red. When that knife cut into your skin, I just lost control.”

Dominic lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “Yes. I noticed.”

“What I mean to say is—”

“You _killed_ a man, Hal! Does that really mean nothing to you?” Dominic retorts.

Hal can’t help but let out a low chuckle. With a resigned voice, he says, “I’ve killed thousands of people, Dominic.”

Something changes in the way Dominic looks at him, then. His thoughts are so loud that Hal can almost hear them. “I know that,” he says quietly, almost speaking to himself. “I’ve killed people as well, have I ever told you?”

Hal frowns at him. This is indeed news to him.

Dominic nods and continues. “Yes, I’ve killed people. Not monsters, but people. Humans. The very beings I had sworn to protect.” He barks out a laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical. “I always told myself that it was for the greater good, that I was saving thousands of lives for the ones that I took, but I was just being a hypocrite, wasn’t I? I never saw it then, but I do now. There is blood on my hands. Captain Hatch knew, he told me as much.”

Dominic is rambling now, and it doesn’t make an awful lot of sense to Hal, but at the mention of Hatch he perks up. “What did Hatch say?” he asks.

Dominic looks thoughtful for a long moment. “I don’t remember the exact wording, but he said something about me being damned, but not realising it yet. It didn’t make any sense to me at the time, but I think I understand it now.”

Hal watches the way Dominic is almost shrinking in on himself, and wants nothing more than to close the few steps distance between them and take him into his arms. Unfortunately, those few steps may as well have been the distance between London and Barry, as he knows there is no way in hell he is able to cross it.

“You’re not damned,” he says quietly, looking down at the mostly empty flask he is still grasping in his hand. “You’re a good man, Dominic.”

Dominic lets out a long sigh, eyes following Hal’s gaze. “What’s going to happen now, Hal?”

Hal’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

Dominic bites his lip and says, “Last night, you must have had more blood than in, what, the last sixty years combined?” Hal gives him a small nod. “And yet here you are, clutching that bottle in your hand like you’re in the worst stage of withdrawal.”

“Hair of the dog,” Hal mutters, and Dominic bites his lip again.

“Right,” he says, frowning. “Does it work?”

“It takes the edge off.” Hal suddenly and irrationally feels very uncomfortable with the conversation. There is silence for a long moment as Dominic’s big blue eyes study him closely.

“I’m hungry,” Dominic says finally, then adds, “I take it you don’t want any breakfast?” There is no malice in the way he says it, merely a statement of fact. Hal has never been more grateful for Dominic’s pragmatism.

He shakes his head and chances a small smile. Dominic turns towards the door and Hal takes the opportunity to down the remaining content of the flask before following Dominic across the hallway. He hesitates in the kitchen doorway, unsure whether the other man actually wants his company in the small room. Dominic doesn’t pay him any attention as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster and puts the kettle on.

Hal stares transfixed at the slowly bubbling water in the glass kettle. “I’d quite like a cup of tea though, if you don’t mind,” he says without thinking. He didn’t expect the genuine, if small, smile that his words put on Dominic’s face.

“Of course,” he says, and gets out a second mug and tea bag.

A few minutes later they are sat across from each other at the kitchen island, Dominic biting into his toast and Hal taking a careful sip of tea. Hal’s eyes wander over the blond man, taking in the slight remainder of a frown on his handsome face, the guarded look in his blue eyes, the tense set of his shoulders. He wants to reach across and comfort him, but still it seems that the distance between them is insurmountable.

And apparently it’s speaking before thinking day today, because the next words out of his mouth are, “I love you.”

Dominic’s eyes snap up to him, big and expressive and filled with hurt and betrayal, the frown lines on his face deepening. “I would have been thrilled to say it back, once, but apparently that’s old news,” he says, voice completely devoid of emotion, in painful contrast with the look in his eyes.

Hal swallows thickly, averting his eyes. “I’m so sorry for what he said to you, Dominic. It was a horrible thing to say.”

“He?” Dominic asks quietly.

“The other one.”

Hal chances a glance at Dominic across the table and sees him frowning, deep in thought. “Well, he wasn’t wrong,” he whispers finally.

Hal stares at him for a long time, unsure what to say. Then, without him consciously deciding to, his hand reaches out slowly across the table, and Dominic does not pull away when his fingertips lightly touch his own lying on the polished oak surface.

Dominic’s eyes flick up to meet his, still so full of hurt that it makes his dead heart ache. “I’m frightened, Hal,” he whispers, almost too quiet for even him to hear.

“Of him?” he asks, and Dominic starts nodding, then swallows and shakes his head.

“What’s going to happen to you?” he asks hoarsely. “Is he… is he going to come back?”

 _Yes,_ he knows he should say. _Yes, he is, and next time he’s coming to stay._ He can feel it in his bones, he is so close now. He knows he won’t be able to hold on for much longer. It’s what always happens.

“I don’t know,” he says.

Dominic is silent for a long moment. Their fingers are still touching lightly on the table top, and through them Hal can feel the almost imperceptible change in Dominic’s heartbeat, that sudden stutter followed by an increase in his heart rate. Dominic swallows heavily and says, “I don’t know how to deal with this, Hal.”

His stomach lurches uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Dominic finally pulls his hand away, clasping it into a fist, knuckles turning white. “This… this whole situation. The ‘other one’. I… I think I need some time alone, to think. To make sense of it all. And what it will mean for… for us.”

Hal’s eyes widen. “Dominic, you’re not—”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he clarifies quickly, and sends him the barest ghost of smile. “I just need some time.”

“Okay. I can give you time.” Hal nods, but can’t help the dejected tone in his voice as he adds, “Just give me five minutes, and I’ll be packed and out of your way.”

He gets up and walks back into the living room, picking up his bag and the empty flask he dropped on the floor by the door. He stares at the latter for a long moment. He doesn’t want to have to ask, but he will never make it through the week on what he still has at home. Not after… last night.

“I’ll get you a couple more,” Dominic’s voice drifts over from the hallway, and Hal looks up to see the blond man watching him intently before turning and walking towards the bathroom in determined strides. Hal feels a sudden wave of nausea in his gut, and his head is starting to pound again.

He carries the bag across the hallway to Dominic’s bedroom, where he picks up his discarded waistcoat and jacket that he didn’t bother to put back on this morning. He zips up his bag and walks back into the hallway just as Dominic emerges from the bathroom, holding out two new flasks to him. “I hope that’ll do you until the weekend,” he says flatly, not making eye contact.

 _I highly doubt it,_ a voice in his head pipes up. _But hey, you’re getting so good at lying now. What’s one more lie in this whole mess of a situation?_

Hal takes the flasks and wordlessly stows them away in his bag. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.”

Hal looks at Dominic for a long moment, hoping to catch the other’s eyes, but Dominic’s gaze remains firmly on the floor in front of him.

“So I’ll see you at the weekend?” Hal croaks out past the rising lump in his throat.

Dominic nods jerkily. “Yes. I’ll drive down to Barry on Saturday, should be there by lunch time.”

Still he doesn’t look at him, and with a resigned nod, Hal walks past him towards the front door. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” he says.

“I know.”

The sadness and disappointment in Dominic’s voice echoes in his aching head all the way back to Barry.


	24. Scotland Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alex finds herself standing in the rain next to the iconic 'New Scotland Yard' sign in front of 10 Broadway. The reality of what she is about to do finally catches up with her and she lets out a short, high-pitched laugh.
> 
> 'Scotland fucking Yard,' she mutters to herself, looking up at the tall building in front of her and shaking her head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> This chapter uses an excerpt from Holt CA, Atkinson PW, Vickery JA & Fuller RJ (2010): Do field margin characteristics influence songbird nest‐site selection in adjacent hedgerows?, Bird Study, 57:3, 392-395. (Yes, I am doing too much research. And just as an aside, I do actually like songbirds.)

I hear the birds when they're singing  
I hear the sirens when they're ringing  
But I can't take my mind  
Off of you  
A thousand words  
Pour out my mouth  
Distance over depth  
Was proven unannounced  
Is this real  
Because I don't feel, alright

\- Tash Sultana, “Notion”

  
Dominic sits at his desk at work, trying his hardest not to die of boredom while re-reading the second paragraph of the research paper on the importance of hedgerow plants for the conservation of songbirds, interspersed with flashbacks of black eyes, sharp fangs, and blood.

_You’re so loyal, aren’t you, my Dominic?_

_Why do you think I will go anywhere with you?_

_Because you love me._

“Hello? Earth to Dominic? Do you want that tea or not?”

Dominic’s eye snap up to see Tracey, the thirtysomething woman with dark blond curls that he shares his office with, standing in front of his desk with an exasperated frown on her face. “Sorry, Tracey. I would love a cup of tea, thank you,” he chokes out, managing to look sheepish for daydreaming.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tracey asks then.

“What?” he replies, feigning ignorance.

Tracey heaves a sigh. “Dominic, you’ve been miles away ever since you turned up for work this morning. And wasn’t it this weekend that your boyfriend was going to come visit?”

Dominic mimics her sigh. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Tracey rolls her eyes. “Suit yourself. Starting to think this ‘Hal’ doesn’t even exist, what with you not even having a picture of him.”

Dominic can’t help the indignant pout that sets itself on his face. “As I said already, he doesn’t like having his picture taken.”

“What, is he ugly or something?” she shoots back, but there is a teasing smile on her face, and Dominic can’t help but crack a small smile of his own.

“He’s not ugly.” Hal’s warm hazel eyes and milky white skin appear in front of his mind’s eye, and his smile grows despite himself. “No, he’s not ugly at all.”

Tracey gives him a wink and a smile before going off to the staff kitchen to make the tea, and not for the first time Dominic curses his big mouth for mentioning Hal to his new work colleagues in a moment of clear madness.

_“So, Dominic, got anyone at home?” the slim, red-haired woman – Sarah? – asks, giving the shorter, stockier woman, Tracey, a meaningful look._

_Dominic sighs and says, “No, I’m afraid.”_

_Sarah, however, smiles at Tracey and stage-whispers, “He’s single.”_

_Dominic’s eyes widen, looking back and forth between the two women. “Actually,” he clarifies, “I am seeing someone. We just don’t live together.”_

_Tracey’s eyebrows rise at this new information. “Oooh, tell us about the lucky lady.”_

_Dominic internally kicks himself. Why couldn’t he keep his stupid mouth shut? He really, really isn’t one for office chit-chat. There never was much of it at the Archive, so sharing his office with two gossipy women has been a bit of a culture shock. He is not prepared for this._

_“His name is Hal,” he says, and to his utter horror, Sarah starts_ giggling _._

_“Guess I owe Liz at reception a fiver,” she says, and Dominic frowns._

_“You’ve been betting about me?”_

_At least Sarah and Tracey have the sense to look sheepish as they both give him a hesitant nod._

The teasing has been non-stop since then, and Dominic really wishes himself back into his Archive office, where no one would have been interested enough in his personal life to even ask.

It doesn’t help that since their disastrous weekend, Dominic has been trying really hard not to think about Hal. Needless to say he’s been failing miserably. Between the constant flashbacks and him trying to actually make sense of the change he saw in Hal that night, he has barely been able to concentrate on his work at all.

Dominic vaguely remembers watching a TV documentary about Dissociative Identity Disorder a while back, sitting on the sofa late at night after a long, exhausting day at the Archive. At the time he frowned at the absurdity of the condition, and a part of him rejected the notion that such a thing could actually exist.

Having seen Hal change so completely right before his eyes on Saturday night, he is no longer in any doubt. He has seen many Type 2s change after drinking blood, of course, he understands the effect it has on them like few other humans can. But this was different. Hal didn’t just change, he became a completely different person.

He remembers reading about Hal’s ‘cycles’, and the confusion in him at the time of what would bring on such an unusual pattern of behaviour for a Type 2. He thinks he understands now.

The thought terrifies Dominic anew every time he thinks it.

Is he going to be able to save Hal from becoming that monster again? Not forever, he knows that, has always known it. So, is this it then? Has the moment come? Will he have to say goodbye to his Hal and watch him be consumed by the monster again? What is he going to do about the other Hal? He’s too dangerous to just be let loose. And yet, Dominic has found himself unable to do what Hal asked him to do, should the eventuality arise. And he knows that no matter how many stakes Hal gives him, he will never be able to use them against him.

_Because you love me._

Indeed.

“Here you go, hun,” Tracey’s voice drifts over as if from far away, but when he looks up he sees that she is standing right in front of his desk. “You sure you’re okay? You look like death warmed over.”

He gives her a small smile and replies, “I’m fine. Just got a lot on my mind. I’m sorry.”

“I’m always here to listen if you want to talk,” she says then, and Dominic barely catches himself from snorting out a laugh just imagining it.

_“Well, you see, my boyfriend is a vampire, and at the weekend he killed a man after he attacked and tried to mug me. But the real problem is that he’s also got a mental health disorder which means he turns into a cold, sadistic bastard, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”_

He gives her a shaky smile and says, “Thanks, but no. I think we have to sort this out ourselves.”

Tracey gives him another long look, but then walks back over to her own desk. Dominic, for what must be the tenth time today, trains his eyes back on the research article.

 _We investigated whether field margin management affected nest‐site selection in adjacent hedgerows by Common Blackbirds Turdus merula, Chaffinches Fringilla coelebs and Dunnocks Prunella modularis_ , he reads.

What has he done to deserve this? How can this be his life? Dominic heaves a long-suffering sigh and looks down again to read the rest of the article.

***

Dominic is just leaving the Defra headquarters and walking across the car park as he hears his phone ring in his coat pocket.

 _Hal,_ is his first thought. But no. So far, Hal has actually been respecting his request and has not contacted him. _Perhaps something is wrong?_ is his next thought.

Pulling the phone from his pocket and seeing the caller ID coming up as _Alex_ doesn’t relieve any of his anxiety.

“Hello?” he answers quickly.

“Hey there,” Alex says, and she doesn’t sound in the slightest bit concerned. Good.

“What can I help you with?” asks Dominic, realising too late that he may be coming across as slightly abrupt.

“I’m good, thank you, how are you?” says Alex mockingly, and he huffs out a short laugh.

“Sorry. Had a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah,” Alex says in such a way that his worry is back in a heartbeat. “What’s been up with you guys, anyway? Hal’s been a right pain in the arse since he came back on Sunday.”

Dominic feels his throat constrict slightly. “In what way?” he asks carefully.

“Well, he’s been spending all his time either in his room, doing press-ups, or out running for hours on the beach, or just generally snapping at people. I figured it must have been something that happened between you two.”

Dominic closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “Yes, we had a bit of a fight. I should really speak to him. Perhaps I can call him later tonight.”

“Yes, please do,” Alex throws in. “He’s insufferable. If he doesn’t get better soon, I’ll send him back to London and you can sort him out.”

Dominic’s heart inexplicably speeds up at the notion. But no. He meant what he said to Hal about needing time. He’s not that pathetically needy that he would go and break his own rules after only three days. Right?

“I’ll call him tonight,” Dominic assures her, then adds, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Alex?”

“I was thinking we should get together again to plan our break-in,” Alex says, and Dominic heaves a sigh of relief. With everything that happened, between Hal and his new job, he almost forgot about their planned Scotland Yard heist. He feels a ghost of the old excitement his job used to bring on, and he smiles.

“I’m ready to go ahead when you are, Alex,” he says, and he hears her laugh on the other end. “What’s so funny?”

“Just that you sound like one of my little brothers asking to go to the arcade when you talk about this,” Alex says, and he blushes. “It’s quite cute really.” After a beat, she adds, “Urgh, forget I said that, please.”

He barks out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Alex, I won’t tell anyone that you do actually like me.”

“Do not!” she says indignantly. “You stole my fucking body, you bastard. I won’t forgive you that easily for that.”

Dominic rolls his eyes. Despite his better judgment, he has to admit that he is becoming quite fond of the young Type 1. “So anyway,” he starts again, “when were you thinking of doing it?”

“You free tomorrow night?” Alex asks, and Dominic grins.

“Most certainly.”

***

“I still don’t think that this is a good idea, Alex. Surely they must have, I don’t know, ghost-proofed the place somehow? Otherwise it would just be a free-for-all for ghosts to go get whatever they please.”

Alex rolls her eyes at Hal across the dinner table, where her friend is sat pushing his food around the plate in that way that really, really irritates her. “Dominic doesn’t seem to think they do. And there wasn’t any ghost-proofing at the original Archive, remember? We managed to get in there no problem, even you and Tom.”

Hal huffs a laugh, making Natasha look up from her own plate and look at him intently. “What did she say?”

It’s been awkward, to say the least, to have a human living with them who is completely unable to see or hear her. They tried the phone thing, of course, but unfortunately for Natasha, she doesn’t have a drop of psychic blood in her body, leaving it to Tom and Hal to translate for her.

“She says Dominic doesn’t seem to think so,” Hal says now, in a clipped tone. Alex has noticed that he seems more tense whenever Natasha is nearby, and it makes her slightly uneasy. Maybe, she thinks, the added stress of Dominic moving away, as well as the fact that they are quite literally up against the Devil, have reawakened his bloodlust. She will have to keep a close eye on him, that’s for sure.

“Hmm,” says Natasha, “he would know if they did. If he’s confident that Alex can get in, I’d say let’s go for it.”

“I don’t like it neither,” Tom pipes up, a sour look on his face. “I really don’t know why ya all trust the guy so much, don’t ya remember what he used to be like?”

Natasha sighs. “Tom, please, I don’t understand why you can’t give him another chance. He’s not as bad as all that.”

Tom rolls his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, right, ‘cause he’s such a beacon of equality, ain’t he? Seriously, I still can’t get me ‘ead around the fact that he’s with—”

Having a good idea of what Tom is going to say next, Alex gives him a forceful kick in the shin under the table.

“—I mean, I can’t believe that he’s bein’ friends with Alex now, is what I mean.”

Alex raises her eyebrows at him, but is relieved that at least he didn’t give Hal away by accident.

Just at that moment, Hal’s phone rings loudly, causing all eyes to land on him. Hal pulls the Blackberry from his pocket and glances at the screen, then looks up at his friends and says, “Excuse me, I should take that.” He gets up and walks out of the room and up the stairs.

“Three guesses who that is,” Natasha says with a smile, and Tom glares again.

“Don’t know what he sees in ‘im,” he mutters.

“Tooom,” Natasha coos, giving him a smile. “Lighten up, please. He’s not all that bad. And anyway, it’s kind of up to Hal who he wants to be with.” There is a moment’s silence, before Natasha adds, “Can you ask Alex something for me?”

Alex sighs. “I can hear you,” she sing-songs.

“She can hear ya,” Tom echoes.

“Oh, okay. Of course, sorry,” Natasha says, slightly flushed. She looks in the direction she knows Alex is sitting and asks, “When you break into Scotland Yard – would you be able to look for a file for me?”

“Sure, what are you looking for?” Alex asks, and Tom repeats her words to Natasha.

Natasha bites her lip and says, “Natasha Miles. Or anything about a vampire blood bank in Cardiff in 1998.”

Alex frowns at her and, forgetting for a moment that she can’t hear her, says, “Natasha, are you sure you want to see that?”

Tom looks at her for a long moment before relaying back to Natasha what she said. Natasha, however, nods.

“Yes. I want to know. He’s always tried to protect me from that information, but I’m an adult now, for god’s sake. I know I can take it.” Her eyes dart between Tom and Alex’s chair, and Alex has to admit that she knows exactly where Natasha is coming from. Wasn’t this her, once? Didn’t she want to know exactly what was written in that wretched grey file?

She nods and says, “Of course, Natasha. I’ll keep an eye out.”

***

Hal sprints up the stairs two steps at a time and slams his bedroom door behind him before answering the phone.

“Hey,” he says, slightly breathless from running, and is answered by silence on the other end for a long moment.

Just as he is about to say something else, there is a quiet, “Hi there.”

Hal inhales sharply at hearing his voice. God, he has missed it so much. His every waking moment since he drove back to Barry on Sunday, when not consumed by thoughts of blood, has been dedicated to remembering that voice. And those blue eyes, and the soft blond hair, and, well, if some of the thoughts did overlap with the other ones, then that was okay too.

“Are you okay?” Dominic asks then, and Hal realises that he has not been saying anything.

Is he okay? No, far from it. “I’ve been better,” he says, truthfully, sitting down on the sofa.

“Yes, Alex mentioned that you’re struggling,” Dominic says, and Hal’s eyes widen.

“Alex noticed?”

Dominic snorts. “Of course she did. She’s not stupid, you know. I’m surprised you’ve been able to keep her in the dark for so long, to be honest.”

Hal swallows. “You haven’t… told her anything, have you?”

“Of course not!” Dominic says quickly. “But you need to be careful, Hal.” He takes a deep breath, then continues, “Do you think you have enough? For the rest of the week?”

Hal knows what he means, of course, and the answer is a resounding ‘no’. He is already on his last flask, and he’s still got half the week to go.

“I…” he finds that he is not able to lie to Dominic anymore. There have been way too many lies between them already. “No.”

There is silence on the other side for a long time following his admission. “Do you think you’ll be all right until Friday? I could come down Friday evening rather than Saturday.”

Hal closes his eyes. Friday. Two days. He can do it. He has to. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“Hal?” Dominic asks then.

Hal takes a deep breath before answering. “Yes?”

“Is Natasha going to be safe?”

Hal’s throat constricts. The honest answer is that he has been doing his very best to avoid her since coming back, but it has been a challenge nonetheless.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and he can hear a small choking sound coming through the phone line. It’s obviously not the answer Dominic expected. But as much as he wants to, he can’t make any promises.

“Please, Hal, not her,” Dominic says, voice small and shaking slightly.

“I’ll stay out of her way,” is all he can say. Then, just to get off the subject, because he is getting increasingly uncomfortable with it, he adds, “I miss you.”

He doesn’t expect the harsh laugh Dominic lets out in response. “I bet you do.”

Hal sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that.” But he is lying again, isn’t he? “Well, not _just_ like that,” he corrects.

Dominic actually chuckles at that, and it puts a small smile on Hal’s face. “I miss you too,” Dominic says after a long moment, and Hal’s smile grows. How does he possibly deserve him?

 _You don’t,_ the cruel little voice at the back of his mind whispers. _But that’s never stopped you before._

***

There is a whoosh of air, and Dominic’s phone rings on the coffee table.

“Wow, nice place,” Alex exclaims as soon as he answers it, and he closes his eyes to be able to locate her. She is standing in the doorway to the living room, facing into the room. He looks up from where he is sitting on the sofa. “Hi, Alex,” he greets her.

He would be lying if he said it doesn’t make him slightly nervous to have a Type 1 standing in the middle of his living room, but as Type 1s go, this one really isn’t so bad.

“Hiya,” she replies, then adds, “How the hell can you afford a place like this? They must be paying you a bloody fortune.”

Dominic chuckles, trying to picture her walking around the large room. “Senior civil service, what can I say?”

There is a moment’s silence on the phone line, before Alex speaks up again, and Dominic’s eyes widen when he sees the picture of Hal lift off its temporary place on the mantelpiece. “Wow,” she breathes. “This is amazing. Where did you get this?”

“It was in his file.”

“At the Archive?” she asks, and he nods.

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he sees the photo float back down to its previous place on the mantelpiece, and Alex says, “Right, so, do you want to get started?”

They go over what they are looking for one last time, Dominic making sure that she understands the filing system so she doesn’t waste time unnecessarily looking in the wrong place. They check that both their phones have enough charge and Dominic hands Alex a headset. She looks at it with raised eyebrows.

“You sure I need this?” She asks, and he nods again.

“You’ll need to have both hands free, Alex. Plus, it’ll be quieter, otherwise I don’t know if someone might hear me through the phone.”

“Good point,” she admits. “Okay, then, Blondie, let’s do this.”

Dominic’s face darkens. “Don’t call me that,” he says quickly, and Alex laughs.

“Of course, I forgot, only Hal is allowed to say that.”

Dominic glares in her general direction, but nods all the same. “Exactly,” he says, and she gives him an exasperated sigh.

“All right then. I’ll speak to you in a little while,” she says instead.

He nods his head once in agreement. “Good luck, Alex,” he says, and a moment later there is another whoosh of air telling him that she has rent-a-ghosted out. “I hope you find what we are looking for,” he mutters quietly to himself.

***

Alex finds herself standing in the rain next to the iconic ‘New Scotland Yard’ sign in front of 10 Broadway. The reality of what she is about to do finally catches up with her and she lets out a short, high-pitched laugh.

“Scotland fucking Yard,” she mutters to herself, looking up at the tall building in front of her and shaking her head. Putting the small ear buds of the headset into her ears, she quickly connects it to her phone and calls Dominic’s number. He picks up on the first ring.

“Alex?”

“No, it’s the Queen,” Alex replies with an eye roll. “Of course it’s me.”

“So you’re in position?” he asks, sounding all business.

“Yep,” she replies. “Just about to make my way into the building.”

“As we said,” Dominic reminds her, “the archive room you’re looking for is almost certainly in the basement. Find a staircase if you can, unless there is a lift that is used by other people. Under no circumstances use the lift on your own, you hear me?”

Alex heaves a deep sigh and starts walking towards the front doors. “Of course not. Honestly, which one of us is the ghost? I kinda know what I can and can’t get away with in public places.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, Alex.” He sounds slightly flushed, and it puts a smile on her face.

Alex enters the building and finds herself in a spacious foyer, which is thankfully largely empty, most likely as a result of the late hour. She looks around herself, trying to remember the floor plans Dominic pulled up on the laptop at Honolulu Heights. Stairs should be… Yes, there.

“Found the staircase,” she informs Dominic as she makes her way over to the unattended door, just to find that it is locked and, from the looks of it, needs a key card to open. Luckily for her, the door has a small window in the middle that makes it easy for her to rent-a-ghost across to the other side.

“Good,” Dominic confirms. “Any guards?”

Alex makes her way down the unassuming emergency staircase to the basement. There isn’t another soul in sight, and she tells Dominic as much.

“Well, then, this should be easy,” the man says.

“Told you,” Alex confirms. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done.” She comes to a stop in front of a heavy steel door at the bottom of the staircase. No window in this one. But, hey, she’s done this before, right? Rent-a-ghosting when you can’t see where you’re going is always a bit of a gamble, but that doesn’t make it impossible. “Just trying to get through the door at the bottom of the stairs,” she keeps Dominic in the loop.

“Trying to?” he asks, worry in his voice.

“Yeah. No worries, Blondie, I’ve got this.”

“Alex!” he hisses, but she just laughs, then closes her eyes and feels the familiar tug and replacement of air, and when she opens her eyes, she is standing in a long, bleak-looking corridor with a long line of bleak-looking steel doors along one side, and for one horrible moment it feels like a flashback to when—

_No, focus on the job. What are you, some hysterical little girl? No men with sticks and rope here. It’s just a bloody corridor._

“Alex? Is everything okay?”

Dominic’s voice pipes up through the earphones, and Alex shakes herself, clears her throat and replies, “Yeah, everything’s peachy. I’m through the door, but there’s, like, at least fifteen closed doors along this corridor. How the hell do I know where to go?”

There is silence for a moment on the other end, and Alex decides that Dominic must be thinking about their options. “Is there anything written on the doors?” he asks finally, and Alex takes a closer look at the first door. It is made of plain grey steel, but in the top left corner, there is a small number ‘01’ and the letter ‘G’. Alex relays this back to Dominic, who immediately asks her to check the next door.

“02 G,” she says, then moves on to the next one. “03 G… 04 G... can you tell me what you are looking for?”

“Keep going,” is all Dominic says, so she keeps walking slowly from door to door, reading out numbers and letters. “05 G… 06 G… Oh wait,” she says as she comes to a halt in front of the seventh door. “01 S.”

“That’s the one,” Dominic says immediately.

“As you say.” Alex frowns, but doesn’t hesitate before trying the handle. Locked. Of course. “Just give me a second, got to rent-a-ghost inside.” And a moment later she is standing in a room that takes her back to when she broke into Dominic’s Archive in Cardiff. “Okay, I’m in,” she informs him.

“Excellent,” he exclaims, and she smiles.

“Now where do I go?” she asks, looking around the vast room. There are rows upon rows of shelves full with boxes and files. Looking to her left, she can see a door at the end of the room that most likely leads to the next archive room.

There is silence on the other end for a long moment, Dominic obviously not too sure himself. “Have a look at some of the closest files and see if there is any pattern in which they might be organised – alphabetical, chronological, geographical, the like. It might give us more of an idea of where to start.”

Alex does as he says and grabs the nearest file off the shelf. Swiftly opening it, she starts reading aloud, “Subject #LV678, Type 2, known as Adam Jacobs… huh, that name sounds familiar somehow,” she says, wracking her brain to think where she has heard it before.

“The teenage Type 2 who lives with a succubus?” Dominic offers.

“Yes, of course, that’s the one,” Alex confirms. “I remember Hal and Tom telling me about him. Have you met him?”

“Not personally, no,” Dominic admits. “But I did write most of his file. So Hal and Tom know him?”

Alex lets out another laugh. “Yeah, he and Yvonne came by the house sometime last year. Apparently they both ended up under the succubus’ spell, and Hal ended up locking himself into his room to get away from her. Even though she obviously wasn’t harming Adam, so she probably wouldn’t have done anything to Hal, but you know what he’s like.”

“Fascinating,” Dominic breathes, and Alex lets out an involuntary laugh.

“You’re such a nerd,” she says, shaking her head.

“And you’re going to thank me for it if I find us the details of that ritual,” Dominic counters, and she thinks he sounds almost smug. “Anyway, have a look at some of the other files, Alex. We shouldn’t linger down there too long.”

“Yes, boss,” she sighs and picks up the file next to Adam’s.

The next few minutes are spent by Alex looking through files and relaying the information back to Dominic, who is trying to make sense of the order. After five or six different files – Alex is starting to lose count – she can hear him take a deep breath.

“It’s chronological,” he says. “All the files you looked at were started relatively recently, and they’re all about individuals rather than incidents. Have a look further down the room until you find the incidents.”

Alex does just that, moving towards the other end of the room and stopping at a shelf where files are interspersed with boxes. She picks the first file off the shelf and starts reading again. She is not familiar with anyone involved in the incident, and also…

“What are Type 4s?” she asks.

“Zombies,” Dominic replies in a heartbeat. “Have you found the Type 4 incident in Barry then?”

“Looks like it,” she says, and then his words sink in and she adds, “There are actual zombies?”

“There’s only the one isolated incident. I’m not aware of any other ones. Anyway Alex, let’s not get distracted. The Type 4 incident was in 2010. We can work our way backwards from that. Look for anything around 1911 to 1918, particularly anything to do with the vampire-werewolf war.”

“Got it,” Alex says and moves across the rows of shelves, picking up a file here and there to see how far back she has got. After about five minutes of searching, she finally finds what she is looking for. Holding the file up triumphantly, she says, “There we go, vampire-werewolf war. Anything else?”

Dominic gives her a short list of other, earlier incidents that he thinks might have some of the information they are looking for, and Alex starts her search again. She manages to find one other file, however before long she finds herself at the end of the long row of shelves.

“1738. That’s the earliest I can find,” she says, and hears Dominic sigh on the other end.

“There must be more files in the next room,” he says.

Alex tries the door at the end of the room and is surprised to find it unlocked. She walks through and finds herself in another archive room, as vast as the first one. She gets straight back to work, leafing through file after file until she has found the next one on Dominic’s list – an account of the execution of a family of vampires in 1665. Having read through the first page of so many of the files, there is one number that appears again and again, and it piques her curiosity to find out more about the vampire behind the number.

“Hey Blondie?” she asks.

“Have you found it?” Dominic asks back expectantly.

“Yes, I have but… can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he says immediately. “What is it, Alex?”

“Who is #SJ031?” Even as she asks it, there is a small voice at the back of her mind that warns her that she might already know the answer and will most certainly not like it, but she wants to know for certain anyway.

There is a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and it confirms her suspicion even before he says anything. His voice is hoarse, as if he is talking around a lump in his throat, when he answers, “Why do you want to know?”

Alex bites her lip and says, “It’s Hal, isn’t it?”

“Alex, do me a favour and don’t go looking for him. He’s done… a lot of awful things. Things that it is probably best if they stay in the past. He is different now.” He sounds like he is trying to convince himself as much as her, and a small frown forms on her face. She remembers the photo she found in Dominic’s flat earlier, and how casually he said that he had read Hal’s file. Having looked at the many, many mentions of him throughout history, she can’t help but feel some kind of morbid curiosity towards his past, and she decides to go and have a look for his file once she has found all the other ones.

“All right, don’t worry,” she says to Dominic, and turns back to the shelves to find the fourth and final file on his list.

***

Dominic is sitting on the sofa in his living room, phone pressed to his ear and waiting with bated breath for Alex to announce that she has found the last file.

Finally, what feels like an hour later although it can’t have been more than five minutes, he hears her triumphant voice saying, “Got it. All right then, Blondie, is this it or do you need me to look for anything else while I’m here?”

“Actually, yes,” he replies instantly. “I should have asked you for this earlier, when you were in the personal file section. Would you mind going back and having a look for subject #GR259? It’s a Type 1 by the name of Emil Parsons.” He remembers Hal mentioning the Type 1 when they were discussing the ritual, and he knows that it is a long shot, but so far they have absolutely nothing to go on and he is not above clutching at straws.

“Sure thing,” he hears Alex’s voice through the speaker. There is a moment’s silence, then, “Oh shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Dominic asks, a flicker of worry rising in his stomach.

“Guard appeared at the door to the first archive room,” she stage-whispers, as if the guard might actually hear her otherwise.

“He won’t be able to see you, Alex,” Dominic tries to reassure her.

“Maybe not me, no, but what about files floating in mid-air?” she points out. Dominic closes his eyes briefly. She does have a point.

“Can’t you, I don’t know, hide them or something?”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, swaddling. Annie told me about it. Unfortunately,” she says with a dramatic pause, “I died in a fucking tiny girly dress because I went out on a date with a psycho vampire.”

Dominic feels a lump growing in his throat at her casual mention of her date with Hal. Trying to make light of the situation, he says, “Well, ‘psycho’ is a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

Alex lets out a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, you’ve never seen him when he’s properly blooded up,” she says, and he almost doesn’t manage to suppress a hysterical giggle to break forth from his mouth.

_If only you knew, Alex. If only you knew._

“No, I guess not,” he says flatly, trying not to betray his hammering heart and wildly spiralling emotions.

“Shit, he’s seen me!” Alex exclaims then, and a moment later he can feel the whoosh of air that announces her return to the room, and he watches as a pile of familiar looking grey files is slowly deposited on the coffee table. He quickly checks his phone to see that the connection is still active. “Sorry, kinda had to make a quick getaway,” she says as he looks at the files with wide eyes.

“Of course. Don’t worry too much, Alex. I doubt we would have got anything useful from that last file.”

“Oh, it's all right, I can go back and get it,” she says quickly.

He shakes his head. “No, don’t go back, it’s too risky.”

“Please, Dominic, you give me too little credit,” she says, and a moment later he feels the by now familiar whoosh of air telling him that he is once again alone in the room. He allows himself a moment to sit back and close his eyes, trying to get his still racing heart back under control.


	25. To Leave the Oven On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On the floor next to the armchair, just as expected, she finds a small pile of the grey files she remembers so well from the time she went to visit the Archive. They were everywhere then, these files, Dominic’s desk added to one corner of the vast room almost like an afterthought. 
> 
> She takes a seat in the large, comfortable armchair and picks up the first file, flicking it open."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> The chapter title is taken from the wonderful Series 5 deleted scene between Rook and Natasha - if you haven't seen it, [check it out](https://youtu.be/7P8_RaZ5Vrw?t=588).  
> I should also probably give a warning for liberal amounts of swearing in this chapter.

Is our secret safe tonight?  
And are we out of sight?  
Or will our world come tumbling down?

Will they find our hiding place?  
Is this our last embrace?  
Or will the walls start caving in?

\- Muse, “Resistance”

  
Alex drops the heavy grey files on the table by the window, eyes roaming over the result of her successful second run in the archive room. In addition to Emil Parsons’ file, she also managed to get her fingers on Hal’s, Tom’s, and the 1998 vampire blood bank incident that Natasha asked her for.

The house is completely silent, and Alex remembers that all three of her housemates are on late shifts in the hotel tonight. Grabbing the file that Dominic asked for, she quickly rent-a-ghosts back to his flat, where she finds Dominic sitting on the sofa, eyes already poring over one of the files she left on the coffee table.

At her arrival, his hand goes out almost automatically to his phone, and a moment later she feels her own phone vibrate in her pocket.

“Welcome back,” Dominic says, looking vaguely in her direction with a small subdued smile.

“Hey,” she says. “Found anything yet?” But of course she knows the answer already.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m just looking through the vampire-werewolf conflict again, to see if there is anything documented about the ritual that Hal was involved in, but it really seems to be like he said. There is no reference to a secret meeting between the vampires and werewolves at all, never mind the involvement of a ghost.”

“I’ve got the ghost’s file,” Alex says, holding the file up and waving it at him, and Dominic’s eyes widen comically at what in his eyes is basically a file dancing in mid-air.

He catches himself a moment later and says, “Thank you, Alex.” There is a short silence in which she lays the file down on the pile on the coffee table, before he adds, “Actually, I was going to ask you… Would you mind… I mean… do you have time? Now?”

Alex lets out a small laugh. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Dominic flushes a bright red and says, “What? No, of course not! What I was meaning was, would you be able to give me a hand looking through these?”

Alex flops down on the sofa next to him and picks up the topmost file – the one about Emil Parsons. “Sure thing, Blondie.”

To her surprise, he doesn’t even comment this time, just lets out a relieved sigh and says, “Thanks, Alex.”

They spend the next hour or so reading through the files on the table. At one point Dominic takes in a sharp breath, which morphs into a disappointed groan after a moment.

“False alarm?” Alex says, and he nods with a sigh.

“There’s nothing. I really don’t think we’ll get anywhere with this.”

After a further hour of reading, Alex can’t help but agree with him. “I think we should call it a night,” she says. “It’s half past one in the morning, and you should probably get some sleep. Don’t you have to go to work tomorrow?”

His face is gloomy as he replies, “Yes, I do. Not that the world would exactly end if I didn’t show up. The only thing that might suffer is my ‘career’… and the British songbird population.”

“The what?” she asks, but Dominic just shakes his head.

“Never mind.”

She waits for a moment, but when he doesn’t continue, says, “Okay, well, I’ll be off then.”

He says his goodbyes to her as well, and a moment later she is back at Honolulu Heights. Sitting down at the table by the window, she picks up one of the files she left there and opens it. She is greeted by an old, yellowed page with typewritten text detailing biographical info about #SJ031.

Alex’s eyes roam over the page, then the next one, and before she knows it she has lost herself in accounts of gruesome killings, blood, torture and death, and she doesn’t re-emerge until she hears the front door opening and the voices of her three friends drifting in from the hallway. Picking up the three files, she quickly rent-a-ghosts to her room, flinging them on the chair in the corner, before making her way back downstairs.

“Hey guys,” she greets them cheerily, but as soon as her eyes fall on Hal, she finds that she can’t unsee some of the images that have burned themselves into her mind’s eye while reading his file. Dominic’s warning is starting to make a whole lot more sense to her now.

“Hi Alex,” Tom says with a smile. “How’d the break-in go?”

“Ooh, of course,” Natasha chips in, following Tom’s gaze with her own eyes, “You did the Scotland Yard break-in tonight. Did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yeah, got everything. Now it’s up to Blondie to actually find the details of the ritual,” she says.

“He hates it when you call him that,” Hal snaps then, and taking another, closer look at him, Alex notices that Hal’s eyes are flicking nervously around the room, and he is fidgeting in that way he does with the domino in his right hand.

“Are you all right?” she asks with a frown building on her face.

Hal’s eyes snap up at her question. “I’m fine,” he says distractedly, then his eyes flick over towards Natasha, and he mumbles, “If you’ll excuse me,” before all but running from the room.

Alex’s eyes narrow as she looks after him, then she turns back around and gives Tom a significant look. “Do you have any idea what’s been up with him lately?”

She swears she can see Tom look away for a fraction of a second before he answers, “Not sure what you mean.”

Alex frowns at Tom. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” he says, too quickly, then grabs Natasha’s hand and leads her up the stairs to what has now become their shared bedroom.

Alex heaves a deep sigh, standing on her own in the middle of the once more empty living room. “Suit yourselves,” she mutters, and picks up a magazine from the bar, idly flicking through the pages to rid her mind of the lingering images of cruelty and bloodshed.

***

Hal wants to say that Friday came by quicker than he expected, but unfortunately that would be a blatant lie.

Between the almost constant presence of a human in the house, Tom’s furrowed brows, concerned glances and insistent questions of “Did your supply get cut off again?” and “Ain’t there nowhere else you can get it from?”, and Dominic’s continued radio silence, he finds that he can barely find the strength to keep his urges at bay, and he wouldn’t want to admit to anyone just how close he has come to just locking the front door of the hotel and draining everyone inside.

As it happens, he is scheduled to do another late shift at the hotel tonight, so he sends a quick text message to Dominic in the afternoon to tell him to meet him in the hotel.

_**Of course, I’ll come straight there. Should be there by 8.** _

**Thank you**

Hal’s hand is shaking as he types, but at least now he knows he doesn’t have to wait much longer. Sighing, he gets up and walks over to his bedside table to take the last flask out of the drawer, only to realise that there are mere drops left inside. He upends the flask anyway, closes his eyes for a moment to savour the taste of Dominic’s blood on his tongue, old and stale though it may be, and slowly makes his way downstairs to join his friends at the dinner table.

“Hey Hal,” Natasha says with a smile at his arrival, whereas Tom turns his head to shoot him another one of those _looks_.

“You’re lookin’ awful mate,” he mutters, and Hal raises his eyebrows at him warningly, gaze flicking to Natasha for the briefest moment. The girl in question chooses that moment to give him another, closer look, and she nods.

“You do look ill, actually. Are you coming down with something? Do you want me to cover your shift for you tonight?”

“No,” he replies with a brisk shake of his head.

“You sure, Hal?” Tom throws in. “You really don’t look good.”

“I said no, Tom,” Hal snaps, and immediately regrets it when he sees the hurt look on his friend’s face.

 _I’m covering for you, mate,_ that look says, _is this really how you want to pay me back?_

He sighs deeply and says, “I’m sorry, Tom. But really, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache,” he adds with a glance at Natasha.

“Ah, another migraine,” Natasha says, and he nods.

“Exactly.”

Tom looks between them for a moment with a puzzled expression on his face, but obviously decides not to pursue that thought.

Hal looks around the table then, noticing the absence of their other housemate. “Where’s Alex?” he asks.

“Dunno, mate,” answers Tom. “Haven’t seen her all day. I think she’s been in her room readin’ through some of them archive files or summat.”

As if she heard them, the ghost chooses that precise moment to appear in the room, walking over to the table and taking her usual seat. She throws Hal a curious look but doesn’t say anything, and the three of them start serving themselves rice and chilli from the two bowls on the table. Hal finds once again that despite Tom’s generous seasoning, the food doesn’t seem to have any flavour, and the combined textures of the rice and mince feel like sandpaper in his mouth.

After a couple of mouthfuls, he lifts his eyes from his plate and finds Alex staring at him. He lifts his eyebrows at her. “Anything the matter, Alex?”

The ghost looks at him with wide eyes for a moment, then shakes her head and says, “No, nothing.”

Hal frowns at her, but turns back to his plate and takes another small mouthful of chilli. While chewing, he remembers what Tom said a moment ago about Alex ‘reading through the archive files’, and an uncomfortable thought starts materialising in his mind… It couldn’t be, could it? He still feels Alex’s eyes on him, and when he looks back in her direction, she frowns and quickly averts her eyes.

“Fair enough,” Hal says tensely and turns back to his plate. She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and whatever it is, is probably best discussed somewhere other than at the dinner table anyway.

Only, in that moment, Natasha seems to cotton on to their awkward exchange, and asks, “Is anything wrong?”

Hal lifts his eyes to the human, and regrets it straight away when he does. Without his conscious input, his eyes zoom in immediately on her neck, on that spot just above her collarbone where he knows it would be only too easy to break through the skin, to sink his teeth into the vein, to taste the sweet liquid that would finally end his suffering.

The smell of the blood is calling to him, his nostrils flare and he notices himself leaning closer towards her across the table. It would be so easy…

Taking a big, forceful breath, he chokes out, “Nothing. Please excuse me,” before bolting from the table, grabbing his coat from the coat rack in the corner, and making his way in hasty steps down the road in the direction of the hotel.

***

Natasha looks after Hal’s retreating back for a long moment before turning back to Tom. “What was that all about?”

Tom shrugs at her, eyebrows drawn together. “Dunno. Guess his migraine got the better of ‘im.”

“Does he get them a lot?” Natasha asks, biting her lip.

She notices that Tom throws a glance towards Alex before answering. “Sometimes.”

“Huh. Poor guy,” she says with a small frown.

“Yeah,” Tom replies, and there is something in his voice, she can’t quite put her finger on it, but it doesn’t sound quite right. Not really knowing how to respond, she decides to let it go for now. She will ask him about it later, away from other prying ears.

They both go back to their food for a moment, before Tom speaks up again. “Alex asked me to let ya know that she got the file you wanted from the archive.”

Natasha smiles in Alex’s direction. “Thank you.”

“She says you’re welcome,” says Tom, then turns back to his food. They eat in silence for a few more minutes before Tom starts piling up the empty plates and carrying the dishes into the kitchen. Alex, by the looks of it, has decided to give him a hand, if the floating bowls are anything to go by.

Natasha decides that they probably don’t need another pair of hands and slowly and discreetly makes her way upstairs and into Alex’s room. On the floor next to the armchair, just as expected, she finds a small pile of the grey files she remembers so well from the time she went to visit the Archive. They were everywhere then, these files, Dominic’s desk added to one corner of the vast room almost like an afterthought.

She takes a seat in the large, comfortable armchair and picks up the first file, flicking it open.

***

Sitting on the small sofa in the currently uninhabited hotel room, Hal finds it hard to block out the incessant _thump thump thump_ of heartbeats of the people in the next room, and the one on the other side, and the dining room downstairs, until they all blend together in a morbid symphony, taunting him, tempting him…

It would be so easy to give in. All he would have to do is stand up, walk over to the next room, and sink his fangs into the first available human’s veins. So easy. So tempting. So easy.

_You should do it. What are you waiting for? For your knight in shining armour to save you again? You don’t need him anymore. You’ve got all this, why would you get so hung up on just one human? He’s not worth it. You can be so much more._

_No. Stop._ He can’t let the other one take over. He is better than this, he is in control—

The door opens, and Hal’s head snaps up, his eyes burning as he takes in the slim figure in the doorway. “Dominic,” he croaks, his voice barely functioning, the dryness in his throat causing him to swallow compulsively.

“Hal,” Dominic says, making his way over to the sofa in three quick strides and sitting down next to him. “God, you look awful,” he says, cupping Hal’s face and looking deeply into his eyes.

Hal chuckles slightly despite himself. “Yeah, I’ve felt better.” Dominic’s hands on his face are gentle and it almost makes him feel sick, the way the man seems to still feel affection for him after everything he has done. “Thank you for coming,” he croaks, and the next moment, Dominic’s lips are on his. The kiss feels different, somehow, so very light and gentle. Caring.

“I love you,” Dominic says then, and all Hal can do is stare at him for a long moment, too stunned to reply. Dominic never actually said the words to him before, and he chooses _this_ moment, a moment of Hal being all but consumed by his condition, to tell him?

When he finally does find his voice, he whispers, “I love you too,” against Dominic’s mouth as the other moves in to kiss him again, and it’s incredible, Hal thinks, how Dominic’s mere presence has calmed him in such a way that he is no longer able to hear the cacophony of heartbeats. All his senses are now homing in on the one heartbeat in front of him, the enticing scent of the man he loves, and his mouth wanders down from Dominic’s mouth to his neck, finally piercing through the soft skin, and the next moment he stops thinking altogether.

***

_#NG157_

_Type 3_

_Goes by the name of Thomas McNair_

_Turned c.1991 as an infant by #UG148 (Anthony McNair) during a brutal attack on #NG157’s biological parents. Was subsequently adopted and raised by #UG148…_

Natasha’s eyes soak in the information on the page, fascinated and slightly unsettled by the black and white evidence of what she, of course, already knew – Tom is a werewolf. The sweet, innocent and funny young man that she is slowly falling in love with turns into a bloodthirsty monster once a month.

Natasha has not actually been at Honolulu Heights for long enough to witness Tom on a full moon, but he has shown her the cellar that he goes into to change, and she was unpleasantly reminded of Bobby’s cage in the Archive. Dominic told her what happened to Bobby, that, in fact, he was one of the victims of the hotel suicides, and she has to admit that she was genuinely saddened to hear about his passing.

Natasha shuts Tom’s file, suddenly feeling like she is intruding on something very personal, and picks up the next nondescript grey file.

This one is a lot thicker and heavier, Natasha notices as she lifts it onto her lap and opens it to the first page.

_#SJ031_

_Type 2_

_Goes by the name of Henry Yorke, AKA Lord Henry, AKA Lord Harry._

Natasha stares at the page and her brow furrows. At first, she thinks that this must be one of the files that Dominic asked Alex to get from the archive to find out about the ritual. Maybe this vampire had something to do with it somehow. Then she reads over the information again.

_Goes by the name of Henry Yorke_

Henry Yorke.

Yorke.

Hal.

But no, she is obviously making things up, isn’t she?

Her eyes roam across the rest of the page, picking up snippets of information.

_…Physical appearance of a Caucasian male, aged early to mid-twenties, brown hair, brown eyes, 5’10” in height…_

_“You didn’t mention he was cute.”_

_“Who?”_

_“The manager, of course. He’s a lot younger than I expected. Can’t be more than, I don’t know, twenty-five?”_

_“Twenty-four.”_

No. It absolutely can’t be.

_…Speaks English (native), fluent French, German, Italian, Russian and Polish…_

_“Have you been in Barry long? You don’t sound Welsh.”_

_“No, I grew up in London.”_

_…Was likely wounded in the Battle of Orsha prior to recruitment…_

_“I was wounded, in combat.”_

_“You were a soldier?”_

_…Recruited 08 September 1514…_

_…1514…_

_“You’re really into vintage stuff, aren’t you?”_

Natasha feels a wave of nausea come on as the numbers and letters on the page swim in and out of focus, and pieces of memories fall together like a jigsaw puzzle.

_Hal, a sheepish look on his face as he explains to her that Tom is a werewolf…_

_“What about you?”_

_“He’s a—”_

He’s a vampire. It’s what Tom was going to say, what Hal didn’t want him to say. Natasha’s head is spinning as she desperately tries to keep her food down. It just _can’t_ be.

_Hal, helping her set the table at Dominic’s place…_

_“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”_

_“Yes, thank you. All it took was some good old-fashioned painkillers.”_

_“Must be some painkiller you’re taking. You were pretty out of it. Actually, you still seemed that way when you got here. And then, five minutes later, boom, you’re fine.”_

_“Maybe that was just the company I was keeping.”_

Vampires don’t get migraines. Vampires don’t—

_Dominic, sitting next to her on the sofa, an adhesive dressing peeking out of his shirt collar…_

_“What’s that?”_

_“Type 2.”_

_“You were bitten?”_

No. No. No no no no no.

_Hal, looking tired and pale, sitting at the dinner table…_

_“I’m sorry, Tom. But really, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.”_

_“Ah, another migraine.”_

_“Exactly.”_

Natasha barely manages to stand up from the armchair, the thick file falling from her lap to the floor with a heavy thud, and runs across the hallway into the bathroom, throwing the door closed behind her, before she tastes bile in her mouth and drops to her knees to retch into the toilet.

Once there are no more stomach contents left for her to bring up, she gingerly gets to her feet and rinses her mouth at the sink. She takes a deep breath and makes her way down the corridor into her and Tom’s room. Pulling the heavy chest out from under the bed, she takes out a wooden cross and a stake before putting on her coat and making her way downstairs and towards the front door in long, decisive steps.

She can just make out Tom’s surprised voice calling after her, “Tasha? Where ya goin’?”

She doesn’t have time, doesn’t have any desire to talk to Tom right now. He knew. He knew the truth and he kept it from her.

Dominic was right. At the end of the day, they are all just monsters.

She half walks, half jogs down the road towards the hotel, head still spinning from the new information.

Dominic… Dominic is in on it. He knows. How can he know what Hal is and still… how can he…?

It doesn’t make sense.

Natasha walks through the front door and up to the reception desk, barely noticing Chelsea smiling and saying “Hi” as she reaches over to take a look at the guest register. Her eyes scan the list of room numbers and names until she finds what she is looking for.

_Mr D Rook – Room 12_

“Thanks, Chelsea, sorry for bothering you,” she throws over her shoulder distractedly as she pulls the spare key to Room 12 out of the key cupboard and quickly walks up the stairs, down the corridor, coming to a stop in front of the plain wooden door. She takes a deep breath to try and stop her heart jumping out of her chest, then she unlocks the door and lets herself in.

***

Somewhere, through the haze of the blood rush, Hal can hear the door opening behind him. The warm liquid still flowing into his mouth makes it difficult to think, but he knows that it probably isn't good news.

“Dominic?” A voice drifts in from the doorway.

He can feel Dominic tensing up under him, and a split second later he is pushed off the sofa and has a wooden cross shoved in his face.

“Get off him, you monster!” shouts Natasha and produces a stake from her coat pocket.

“Tasha, no!” yells Dominic. She whirls around to him, giving Hal the opportunity to get up off the floor and slowly back away.

Natasha gives Dominic an incredulous look. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Language, Natasha!” Dominic scolds, even as he presses a dressing to his bleeding neck in a well-practised motion.

Natasha’s glare is murderous. She turns around to Hal, still holding the stake, and asks, “What the hell have you done to him?”

Hal opens his mouth to answer, but before he has the chance to say anything, Dominic says, “He hasn't done anything I didn't allow, Tasha. It was consensual.” He speaks in that really slow, measured way of his, as if he is explaining something to a small child.

Natasha snorts. “That's exactly what I mean. What's he done to you to make you – _you_ of all people – consent to something like that? What? Some kind of mind control? Can vampires even do mind control?” She is rambling, all the while looking between Hal and Dominic, stake in hand.

Hal is beaten by Dominic yet again as the latter sighs deeply and says, “No, Tasha. Type 2s can't ‘do mind control’. I'm not being controlled in any way, I allowed Hal to do it.” He sounds tired and defeated, and Hal's heart goes out to him. He wants to sit back down on the sofa and wrap his arms around him, but Natasha’s stake is still pointing at him, and he doesn’t dare move.

Natasha’s voice is filled with quiet hurt when she says, “How dare you? After everything?”

"I'm sorry,” Dominic whispers.

Natasha glares at Dominic with stony eyes and snaps, “No! You don’t get to say that to me. You risked your life trying to save me from those monsters, and now you're offering yourself to him like an all-you-can-eat buffet? You're the closest thing I have to family, and you'll end up just like her, drained of blood and left for dead in some dark musty tunnel. Not because he forced you, but because you _chose_ to. Fuck you.” She turns and storms out of the room.

“Tasha!” Dominic jumps up from the sofa, but within a split second he goes white as a sheet and drops back down. He buries his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Dominic,” Hal says quietly as he walks back over to the sofa and takes a seat next to the blond man, who is shaking like a leaf and staring at the door with wide, unbelieving eyes. His hand comes up to carefully stroke Dominic's back, not sure if he actually wants his contact right now.

Dominic turns around to him after a moment, his blue eyes boring into him. “What am I going to tell her, Hal?”

“The truth,” he replies, folding his arms around Dominic’s still shaking frame. “It’s all you can do now.”

“She’ll never understand.” Hal has never heard his voice like this. Completely and utterly devastated.

He has no idea what to say, doesn’t think there is anything he can say to take Dominic’s pain away in this moment, knowing full well that it is _his_ fault they are in this situation in the first place. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, against the side of Dominic’s head.

Dominic takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and pulls away from Hal to stand up once again from the sofa, this time succeeding in staying on his feet. “It’s not your fault,” he says, his back to Hal.

Hal is about to open his mouth to protest, but Dominic raises a finger, signalling for him to be quiet. He watches as Dominic takes his phone from his pocket, walks over to the window, and dials. Natasha’s number, Hal is sure. He suddenly feels like an intruder, and gets up from the sofa, moving over to the door. “I should go,” he says quietly, wanting to comfort Dominic, but also realising that it’s completely not his place to do that right now.

Dominic turns around to him then. His brow is furrowed and his blue eyes are full of sadness and regret. “I’ll call you later,” he says, phone still pressed to his ear, and Hal can hear the dial tone from across the room. He gives Dominic a small, encouraging smile, then turns and shuts the door behind him.

***

Natasha walks down the familiar road in quick strides, watching the streetlights blur before her eyes and brushing angry tears from her face. Images of Hal, leaning over Dominic with his fangs in his neck, flash before her eyes. Dominic’s terrified expression as she pressed the stake to Hal’s chest, as if he actually _cares_ about the filthy bloodsucker’s fate, makes her want to throw up again.

Her phone starts ringing in her pocket, and she ignores it, setting one foot in front of the other to make her way back to Honolulu Heights. Not that she is planning to spend any more time at the house than strictly necessary, but she at least needs to pack some of her stuff before she goes and takes the first train out of here.

She walks up the path to the front door, and isn’t surprised to see the blinds move and the door open before she has even got out her key.

“Where did you run off to?” Tom asks, his eyebrows drawn together in obvious concern, and it makes her feel sick. She tries to shove past him, but finds that he is blocking the door.

“Let me through, Tom,” she says harshly, not meeting his eyes.

“You’ve been cryin’,” Tom states then, nonetheless stepping aside to let her through. He follows her into the hallway and then up the stairs, calling, “What the hell is goin’ on, Natasha?”

She whirls around to him so suddenly that he almost crashes into her, but he manages to catch himself in the last moment. “You dirty fucking liar,” she throws in his face, and sees the concerned expression on his face morph into confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says, venom in her voice, “Just the small issue of you conveniently forgetting to tell me that Hal is a vampire.”

Tom’s eyes go wide in realisation. “How did ya find out?”

“Read his file,” she says, then turns around again to make her way into their bedroom.

“Tasha, please, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell ya, but I weren’t sure how you were gonna react, and Hal said it was a bad idea, and he’s me best mate, so I wanted to protect him…” he trails off and heaves a deep breath as she looks up and gives him a narrow-eyed glare.

“He’s your best mate? Well, let me tell you, you’ve got a really shit taste in friends.”

“Hal’s all right, really, if you give him a chance,” Tom says, and she turns away from him again, busying herself with pulling clothes from the wardrobe and into her travel bag. “I don’t like vampires neither, Tasha. But he’s not like the rest of ‘em.”

“Oh no?” she bites out, not stopping what she is doing. “I don’t know how you got to that conclusion, Tom. To me they’re all the fucking same. I can’t believe I actually _liked_ him. I actually lived in the same _house_ as him. And you were there the whole time, and you _knew_ , and you just lied to me. Every day, you lied to me. I really fucking hate you right now, Tom.”

She stuffs the last couple of t-shirts into the bag and closes the zip, then throws the bag over her shoulder and walks past Tom and out of the room. She can feel his presence behind her as she makes her way back downstairs and to the front door.

“Natasha, please wait,” he begs her, and the sadness in his voice almost makes her turn around. Almost.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Tom,” she says coldly, and opens the front door, finding herself once again out in the cool evening air. It’s not that late yet, she thinks, if she is lucky she may still be able to catch a train to Cardiff, and from there she should be able to get on a late train to Paddington.

Sitting on the platform at Barry station and waiting for her train to arrive, she once again notices her phone ring, and with an angry huff, she pulls it out of her coat pocket and accepts the call.

“What do you want, Dominic?”

“Tasha, please, let me explain,” Dominic’s frantic voice comes through the speaker, and her throat constricts.

“I don’t want to talk to you, traitor,” she chokes out, and feels the prickle of tears in her eyes once again. She is surprised that Dominic’s betrayal hits her so much deeper than Tom’s did.

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” he says quietly, and she feels a sudden urge to throw her phone across the platform.

“I already told you not to fucking apologise to me. I don’t know what the hell happened to you to make you betray everything you ever believed in, but if that’s the way it is, I don’t ever want to see you again. And you can tell Hal—” she stops, bile rising in her throat, and starts again a moment later, “No, forget that. I don’t want to tell that _thing_ anything. But I’m telling _you_ now, if he ever shows his undead fucking face to me again, I will stake him.”

“Tasha, please listen—”

“No, Dominic! There is _nothing_ you can say that will make this okay, do you understand? If you choose to stay with him, you also choose to cut me out of your life, because I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

“I’m not—”

“No? Well it fucking looked like it from where I was standing. He is _drinking your blood_. Do you really think he cares about you at all? Because from all you’ve ever taught me about vampires, I don’t actually think they are capable of that.”

“They are,” Dominic shoots back immediately. “He is. I know that.”

Natasha lets out a dark laugh. “Why? Because he told you?”

Dominic’s voice is so quiet that she can barely hear him when he replies, “Yes.”

Tears are streaming down her face at the injustice of it all. She felt so happy for Dominic to have finally found love, to have finally found meaning in his life outside of his work. To have the feeling thrown back in her face in such a horrible, despicable way makes her want to scream with how unfair it all is.

He doesn’t make it any better with his next words. “I love him, Tasha.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she feels a pathetic sob escape her mouth. “He doesn’t deserve you,” she breathes.

“I know why you would feel that way, Tasha, but you don’t know him. Not really.”

She huffs. “Yeah, I just lived under the same roof as him _and_ worked with him for the last month.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, and she huffs again.

“Because I don’t let him suck on my neck?” she says, disgust heavy in her voice.

He lets out a deep sigh before continuing, and she can almost picture the blush that would creep into his face at her words. It would make her smile if the subject wasn’t so sickening.

“That’s not really got anything to do with it, Tasha,” he says finally.

“It’s got everything to do with it,” Natasha replies, the memory of how she found them still fresh in her mind. “God, I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Dominic says, and she narrows her eyes. Truth is, as much as she feels sickened by the thought, Dominic actually looked like he was _enjoying_ it.

Before she has the chance to say anything else, however, the train finally pulls up at the platform, and she stands up and throws her bag over her shoulder. “Listen, Dominic, I need to go. I… I’m not sure if I want to speak to you again. I’m not okay with this, and wh—”

“Tasha, please—” he tries one last time, but she doesn’t let him finish.

“—and whatever you say, I never will be. There may come a time that I want to contact you, just you, just to know that you’re okay, but for now I… I need to get away from all this. Please don’t try to call me again.”

She hears him heave a big sigh on the other end. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she says, and then, “Goodbye, Dominic.”

“Take care of yourself, Tasha,” he replies. Then the line goes dead.

She blinks back a fresh prickle of tears and boards the train.


	26. R & R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hal is sitting at the reception desk, nervously tapping his fingers together, when he hears his phone vibrate twice, signalling a new text message. He pulls the phone from his pocket and reads,
> 
> Are you free? I really want to see you.
> 
> He takes a look around the hotel foyer, which is silent as the grave at this late hour, and quickly texts back.
> 
> Give me two minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for reading and leaving kudos. You seriously make my day!
> 
> This chapter is a bit of much needed respite for the two of them after all the drama of the last few chapters, to help them come to terms with everything that happened.
> 
> Enjoy!

With you I am calm  
A pearl in your oyster  
Head on my chest and a silent smile  
A private kind of happiness  
You see giant proclamations are all very well  
But our love is louder than words

\- Bloc Party, “Sunday”

  
Hal is sitting at the reception desk, nervously tapping his fingers together, when he hears his phone vibrate twice, signalling a new text message. He pulls the phone from his pocket and reads,

_**Are you free? I really want to see you.** _

He takes a look around the hotel foyer, which is silent as the grave at this late hour, and quickly texts back.

**Give me two minutes.**

_**Thank you.** _

He quickly walks through to the dining room and asks one of the other staff members to cover the reception desk, before he makes his way upstairs and down the long corridor, back to Room 12.

He knocks on the door and waits. It doesn’t take Dominic long to open the door, and he quickly reaches out to pull him into the room by the lapels of his suit jacket before closing the door and pushing him up against it, covering his lips with his own in a hungry kiss. Hal’s hands come up to tangle in Dominic’s blond hair, and the man lets out a low moan at the touch, his own hands running up and down Hal’s chest. They kiss for a long time before Dominic finally pulls back. His hands are still resting on Hal’s chest, lightly caressing him through the fabric of his shirt, and he looks deeply into Hal’s eyes when he says, “Make love to me, Hal.”

It takes a long moment for Hal to understand what Dominic is asking of him, his brain still a little sluggish from the rapid influx of blood in his system only about half an hour ago. When it finally catches up, his breath hitches in his throat. “Are you sure?”

Dominic nods, suddenly looking almost shy. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while.”

Hal can’t help the slight frown creeping into his face. “You certainly pick your moments.”

Dominic huffs out a dry laugh. “Says the vampire who confessed his love to me mere hours after killing an innocent human.”

Hal’s eyebrows shoot up. “He was hardly innocent.”

Dominic’s hands move up from his chest to his shoulders, then further up to cradle his face before he brings his lips down on his own in another searing kiss. Hal barely gets the chance to respond to it before Dominic pulls away again. “That’s hardly the point, Hal,” Dominic says against his lips. Hal’s own hands grab the back of Dominic head and brings his lips back down against this own, much more gently, slowly moving against him, breathing him in.

After a long moment of sharing each other’s air, Dominic pulls away enough to whisper, “Come with me,” before grasping Hal’s hand and pulling him further into the room, towards the king size bed. Dominic’s hands are everywhere at once, Hal thinks, as he discards Hal’s jacket, shirt and trousers while simultaneously also stepping out of his own clothes.

What feels like no more than a heartbeat later to Hal, they are both naked on the bed, and Dominic is kissing him once more. “Make love to me,” he breathes again, and it makes an electric current run down Hal’s spine and straight into his groin. He moans into Dominic’s mouth, and the man answers him by deepening the kiss, running his inquisitive tongue around the inside of his mouth. At the same time, both their hands have started exploring each other’s bodies, almost like that first time, right here in this very hotel, every touch loaded with need and urgency, but when Hal reaches for Dominic’s hard cock, the other man stills his hand with his own and shakes his head. “No, Hal.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” he asks, breathless, trying and failing to escape Dominic’s steel grip on his wrist.

“You know what I want.”

Hal swallows, then manages to compose himself enough to ask, “Have you got any Vaseline?”

Dominic lets out something that could almost be described as a giggle. “It’s not the 1950s anymore, Hal,” he says with a smile, before adding, “There’s a bottle of lube in my bag.”

Hal reluctantly moves off the bed and finds Dominic’s bag flung on an armchair in the corner. He opens the zip and rummages around the bag until he finds what he is looking for, then he walks back to the bed, sits down on the edge and reaches out a hand to lightly run it over Dominic’s stomach before saying, “Turn over onto your hands and knees.”

Dominic’s eyes widen. “But I want to be able to see you.”

Hal bites his lip and explains, “Trust me, Dominic, it’ll be more comfortable that way for your first time.”

Dominic looks at him for a long time, a pensive and almost calculating look in his eyes. Then he slowly shakes his head. “No. I want to be able to see you.”

Hal can’t help but roll his eyes. “My God, you are stubborn, aren’t you?”

Dominic just looks at him with those huge blue eyes and slowly nods, and Hal is lost.

“Okay. Lie down and pull your legs up,” he says, and Dominic does as he is told. Hal’s breath hitches as he looks down at his boyfriend, all exposed and open to him. He smothers a generous amount of that new-fangled lubricant on his hand before moving it down to lightly rub a single finger against Dominic’s opening. He feels the man tense under him, and he brings his other hand up to intertwine it with Dominic’s, which has been grabbing fistfuls of the sheet. “It’s all right, Dominic. I’m not going to hurt you. But you need to relax for me, okay?”

Dominic gasps out a sharp breath and nods. “Yes.” But Hal still feels the other man’s tension underneath him. He leans forward and brings his lips down on Dominic’s in a feather-light kiss.

“Relax,” he whispers again, and finally, he feels the tension seep out of Dominic’s muscles. He brings his hand back up to Dominic’s opening and runs the tip of his index finger around it, spreading some of the lube, then slowly pushes inside.

There is a sharp intake of breath from Dominic, but the next moment the man gives him a shaky smile and says, “I’m okay, Hal. Just go slowly, okay?”

“Of course.”

And he does, moving his finger so very slowly into Dominic’s tight heat, even though his own cock is getting almost painfully hard in anticipation and he wants nothing more than to feel that tightness around him. It has been so long.

Once Dominic is fully relaxed underneath him, Hal adds a second finger and slowly pushes in again. Another hitching breath, but Dominic grabs his other hand tighter inside his own and says, “Go on.”

Hal brings his lips back down on Dominic’s in a long, slow, languid kiss while his two fingers carefully scissor and prepare Dominic for more. He knows he has to go extra slow, be extra careful. The first time is always the hardest.

He curls his fingers slightly as he pushes back in, and all of a sudden there is a loud whimper and Dominic’s back arches off the mattress. “Oh, Hal,” he gasps, eyes huge and staring right into his. “Do that again.”

And Hal does. And then he does it again, and again, until he hits Dominic’s prostate with each push of his fingers, and when he adds a third finger a moment later, it seems like the other man doesn’t even notice as he pushes down against Hal’s fingers and moans loudly at the sensation.

“Want to feel you, Hal. Please,” he pleads, blue eyes big and boring into him, and who is he to deny him? Hal withdraws his fingers, earning a small noise from Dominic, and opens the little lube bottle again to slather a generous amount onto his own hard length.

At the last moment, he grabs one of the pillows from the top of the bed and says, “Lift up your hips, Dominic.” The man does as he is told, and Hal slides the pillow in underneath his hips before positioning himself in front of him, hovering over him for a moment. His fingers run along Dominic’s cheek and he closes the distance between them once more to capture Dominic’s lips in a gentle kiss before slowly, slowly pushing inside.

And, oh, the tightness and heat almost overwhelm him, almost make him come on the spot. It’s been so long. Too long. There is a delicious little whimper from Dominic, so similar to the small sounds he makes when Hal sinks his fangs into his neck, and he is overcome with the sudden urge to—

But no, he can’t. Not now. Not again so soon.

Hal pushes further in until he is fully inside, and then he pauses, giving Dominic time to adjust.  
  
“Hal,” he breathes, and then, almost too quiet for him to make it out, “I love you.”

His throat constricts and he finds it impossible to move for a long moment. Then he brings his mouth down on Dominic’s in a gentle kiss and pulls out a fraction, just to push back inside a moment later, and there is that gorgeous little whimper again. He seriously won’t be able to keep going for long if Dominic keeps this up.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into Dominic’s mouth, eliciting a breathy moan as he brushes that spot inside Dominic again. They fall into a slow rhythm, Hal careful to adjust his angle to hit Dominic’s prostate with each thrust, and it’s not long until the blond man is a quivering mess underneath him. Hal brings his hand up to Dominic’s leaking erection, moving it in time with his thrusts, which are getting faster and more erratic as he himself reaches the point of no return. He is breathing heavily, and the pull of Dominic’s blood just underneath his skin is tantalising him, but he knows he can’t give in, he has to be strong, has to keep his human safe.

He can feel his fangs descend and he lifts his mouth away from Dominic’s, lips firmly closed.

“Hal?” Dominic asks, a slight edge of concern in his voice.

“I’m okay,” he replies, looking straight into Dominic’s big eyes. “I’m good.”

Dominic smiles at him, chest heaving, breathy little moans escaping his mouth each time Hal brushes that special spot, and it’s all getting too much for Hal.

With a loud moan and Dominic’s name on his lips, he spills his release deep into Dominic. His hand keeps working on Dominic’s cock, and it’s not long until Dominic comes all over his hand, eyes tightly shut and a whispered “Hal” on his lips.

He collapses on top of Dominic, burying his head in the crook of his neck, careful not to crush the smaller man with his weight, and after the longest moment he finally feels his fangs retract, and he lifts his head to capture Dominic’s lips in another slow, languid kiss. His softening cock is still buried inside Dominic, and a part of him really doesn’t want to move, wants to stay like this, joint with his human, for all eternity.

“I love you too,” he breathes against Dominic’s mouth, eliciting a slow, bright, happy smile on Dominic’s face.

Dominic is still breathing heavily underneath him, and the expression in his blue eyes is soft and tranquil as he smiles up at him. “Thank you,” he says then, and Hal isn’t quite sure what he is thanking him for, but he answers him with a smile of his own and another gentle kiss.

After what feels like forever, he finally pulls out and moves slightly to the side, laying his head down on the pillow next to Dominic. The man turns on his side as well, facing him, and this is how they go to sleep, fingertips brushing against each other in the small space between them.

***

Dominic offers to drive them back to the house the next morning, after a lazy breakfast in bed courtesy of room service, and Hal takes his hand as they walk across the road to where the silver Lexus is parked, making Dominic turn around and smile.

Hal looks at him for a long moment. Dominic’s eyes are bright and shiny and blue, and Hal finds that he can’t look away. He barely notices as he opens his mouth and says, “Let’s not go back yet.”

Dominic furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s… I don’t know… go for a walk or something.” He looks around them, taking in the misty, chilly morning, eyes roaming over the pavilion and the footpath leading down to the seafront, and he bites his lip as he adds, “We could go down to the beach?”

Dominic huffs slightly at first, looking at the gloomy day around them, but to Hal’s surprise takes a firmer hold of his hand and starts walking again, away from the car. “I’d like that,” he says, and Hal smiles.

They walk down the footpath and onto the sandy beach, deserted on this cold April morning, a stiff breeze carrying salty sea air across the shore. Hal takes a deep breath. He has always preferred to live by the sea. Landlocked cities tend to make him feel slightly claustrophobic.

He wonders briefly if he should mention Natasha and what happened yesterday, but decides that if Dominic wanted to talk about it, he would probably bring it up sooner or later, and as long as he isn’t, Hal certainly has very little desire to discuss it. The truth is that for a long time last night, while sitting at the hotel reception fighting the after-effects of the blood rush, he fully expected Dominic to leave him. To, when given the ultimatum, choose his human friend over him. All the more surprised was he when Dominic asked him to come up to his room last night.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Dominic says then, with a small lopsided smile that painfully reminds him of Natasha.

“It’s a bit of a weird morning,” he replies, tugging Dominic along next to him along the beach.

“Hmmm,” Dominic hums in confirmation, and they continue walking in silence for a moment, taking comfort in each other’s company.

A memory suddenly pops up in Hal’s mind as his eyes wander along the beach, and he can’t suppress a small chuckle. “I took Crumb here once,” he says, answering Dominic’s silent question.

Dominic frowns before he answers, “Crumb? To do what?”

Hal laughs. “Running, press ups, lunges, stretches – I had a whole exercise programme for him.”

Dominic’s frown deepens. “Why?”

“To help him through the detox.”

Dominic bites his lip and watches him for a long moment. Hal becomes increasingly uncomfortable under the intensity of that look. “Do you think—” Dominic starts finally, but Hal, anticipating his question, doesn’t give him a chance to finish.

“No,” he says emphatically. “I wouldn’t be… it’s not as easy… for me… as it is for a new recruit. It could take _years_ , in which I probably wouldn’t be able to be anywhere near you.” He comes to a stop and brings up his free hand to cup Dominic’s cheek, looking deep into his eyes.

Dominic swallows visibly and says, “So we’ll just continue the way we are?”

Hal nods. “If you’re okay with that.” Dominic returns his nod, and Hal leans in to peck him on the lips. “Thank you.”

“So, Crumb,” Dominic says after a moment, a small smile on his lips. “You rather surprised me when you said you were going to help him go clean.”

Hal huffs a small laugh. “I remember. Your face when you saw him at the hotel was priceless.”

“Half of that was me trying very hard not to jump on you and kiss you senseless,” Dominic admits with a wicked little grin, and Hal can’t help but smile back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. It was very distracting.”

“I bet.” They share another quiet laugh.

“What happened to him?” Dominic asks then, and Hal’s laughter dies on his lips.

He gives Dominic a serious look and says, “He died.”

Dominic frowns, but obviously decides not to pry any further. They stand there for a moment in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Hal’s eyes wander back down the beach again, and an idea comes into his head. “Race you?” he asks, and Dominic snorts.

“Hardly.”

“Why not?” he asks with an almost pout.

“I think we don’t need any further proof that you’re faster than me,” Dominic says, eyebrows drawing together. “I know I can’t keep up with you.” An uncomfortable memory of a week ago materialises in Hal’s mind, and he looks down.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, but Dominic’s hand comes up to lift his chin and look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. In actual fact…” he trails off then, and Hal doesn’t miss the small blush creeping into his cheeks.

“What?” he asks, curious for him to continue.

“In actual fact, I… I find it quite sexy, the way you are, you know, so much faster, and stronger, and better looking—”

“Now that’s just a lie,” Hal interjects, and Dominic shakes his head.

“No, it’s not.”

Hal looks at him for a moment, and Dominic looks right back at him, eyes big and blue and sincere. “What do you think makes me good looking?” Hal asks eventually, his own gaze turning playful.

Dominic’s eyes narrow slightly and he bites his lip as he thinks about the question. Hal’s eyes are drawn to his mouth and he has a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to pierce that lip with his fangs. He swallows hard and shifts his eyes away.

“I like your eyes,” Dominic says in a small, hesitant voice, “and your smile, your teeth—”

“My teeth?” Hal splutters, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline.

Dominic blushes again, and Hal inwardly sighs, trying hard to ignore the renewed flare of hunger in his gut.

“Yes, you have nice teeth,” Dominic states, then, “Did you wear braces?”

Hal chokes out a laugh. “I grew up in the 1500s, Dominic. No, I did not wear braces.”

Dominic squeezes his eyes shut, the blush in his cheeks, if possible, intensifying even more. “Oh God, I’m such an idiot.”

Hal laughs again, and this time Dominic actually joins in, corners of his eyes crinkled and his blue eyes dancing with mirth, and Hal leans down to kiss him again. What starts out as a quick peck on the lips soon turns into a deep, sensual kiss, and Hal feels his hunger flaring up again at the closeness, almost too powerful now to ignore.

 _That’s because you shouldn’t be ignoring it,_ the other one speaks up in his head, and he fights the urge to groan loudly. _It’s unnatural,_ the voice continues, _you need to start following your true nature again, Harry. It’s exhausting you, what you’re doing. Pretending to be something you’re not. You won’t be able to keep it up forever. Just give in now, take him, and end this silly infatuation._

“No,” Hal says loudly, then, pushing Dominic away from him. He closes his eyes, but still feels Dominic’s questioning gaze on him, not judging, just worried.

The other one is so close to the surface since last week’s incident, he finds it almost impossible to block him out. Especially when he is feeling hungry, which is pretty much all the time now.

“Hal, what’s wrong?” Dominic’s concerned voice drifts into his consciousness, and he realises he is still standing with his eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t find the right words to say immediately, and a moment later Dominic continues, “It’s him, isn’t it? In your head?”

Hal swallows and nods.

“Don’t listen to him, Hal. You’re stronger than that.”

Hal opens his eyes then, taking in Dominic’s creased brow and gentle eyes. “It’s more difficult when I’m hungry,” he admits, looking down.

He doesn’t expect Dominic’s gentle hand on his chin, making him look at him again, or the sincerity in his voice when he speaks. “Well, there is something we can do about that, isn’t there?”

Hal frowns, looking around them. “What, here?”

“The place is deserted, Hal,” Dominic reasons. “Look, there isn’t another soul in sight. And anyway, from a distance I doubt anyone could tell what you are actually doing.”

Hal swallows down the sudden, powerful desire to just jump on Dominic and do as he asks. “No. It’s too soon, I… I can’t. Not again.”

“Can’t what?” Dominic asks, brow furrowing.

“Can’t take advantage of you like that.”

Dominic’s hand comes back up to his face, thumb gently rubbing over his cheek, before he leans in and gives him another soft kiss. He pulls back a fraction and says, “You’re not taking advantage of me. I thought we’ve very much clarified that by now.”

Without giving Hal a chance to respond, Dominic leans in again and lightly nips his bottom lip with his teeth. The sensation makes the hunger flare white hot in his gut and sends an electric current straight into his groin. He can’t help the needy moan that bursts forth from his mouth before he leans in and nips Dominic’s own lip with his fangs. There is a sharp intake of breath as he pierces Dominic’s skin. Obviously the man didn’t expect him to go for his lip.

There is a small, but fairly unsatisfactory trickle of blood flowing into his mouth, and after a short moment, he gives up and moves his mouth down into the crook of Dominic’s neck. The puncture wounds from last night have barely started to heal, and it’s slightly unpleasant to bite through the scabs, but he is faintly aware that he shouldn’t scar Dominic any more than he absolutely has to.

The steady flow of blood makes his frayed nerves calm down and numbs the painful hunger in his gut, and he closes his eyes to savour the feeling. He can hear Dominic’s tell-tale little whimpers, and only now does he fully realise how much of a turn on the man’s reaction to him is.

After not nearly enough time, he feels Dominic’s hands on his chest, pushing him away, and he finds it almost impossible not to fight back, but there is a little persistent voice at the back of his mind telling him that he has to keep Dominic save.

He steps back, wipes his mouth, and before he has a chance to even thank him, Dominic’s lips are back on his, still tasting slightly of his blood, and Hal gladly opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

They kiss like that for a long time, until Dominic finally pulls away to gulp in a much needed breath. His lips are red and swollen, blue eyes wide and intense, chest heaving.

“You were so wrong,” Hal breathes, and Dominic gives him a questioning look. “No one can possibly be more beautiful than you,” he clarifies and pecks him on the lips again.

Dominic chuckles, eyes dancing. “I never understood how you can think that, but thank you.”

Hal smiles. “Thank _you_.”

Dominic smiles brightly back at him. “Anytime.”

Hal reaches out, then, and takes Dominic’s hand in his own, holding on to him as they start walking again along the still empty beach.

For the first time since last weekend, Hal feels hopeful that there is still a chance for them, and for the life they are trying to build together, however slim it may be.

***

The house is quiet when they make their way back half an hour later, and Hal leads Dominic through the empty living room and towards the kitchen. There is a persistent alarm bell at the back of Hal’s mind, wondering about what Natasha may have said to Tom and Alex before she left. If she told them what she saw at the hotel… it really doesn’t bear thinking about.

But the house is silent, there is no sign of either Tom or Alex, and Hal relaxes a little bit more with each step he takes towards the swinging doors.

“Cup of tea?” he asks, smiling.

“I’d love a cup of tea.” Dominic smiles back at him, and he can’t help but kiss those soft, inviting lips once more before letting go of Dominic’s hand and turning towards the counter, flicking the kettle on. Dominic takes a seat at the kitchen table as Hal busies himself with putting tea bags into two mugs.

“Can you make that three?” Alex voice comes over from the doorway then, and Dominic’s eyes snap up at what he must perceive as a movement of air in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Hal can see Dominic fumbling in his pocket for his phone. Hal’s own gaze wanders over to the ghost, who is hovering in the doorway, a downbeat little smile on her lips and a crease in her brow.

“Of course, Alex,” he says quietly, and gets another mug out of the cupboard.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says then, still standing in the doorway as if she is nervous about coming into the room. It doesn’t make an awful lot of sense to Hal, until he hears Dominic’s reply.

“I told you not to go looking for that file, Alex.”

The pieces fall into place in Hal’s mind then, his suspicion of the previous evening confirmed.

Alex takes a few careful steps into the kitchen and sits down across from Dominic, shoulders slumped, looking down. “I know. I said I’m sorry. I never meant for her to find it.”

He can hear Dominic’s sharp intake of breath at the mention of Natasha, and turns around to look at the man, of how his posture is almost a perfect mirror image of Alex’s, and one thought repeats itself over and over in his mind.

_You did this. It’s your fault. Alex may take the blame for it, but if it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened. You’re bad news for anyone you ever get close to, always have been. The best thing for you to do, if you really care about them, would be to get as far away from them as possible._

“She was going to find out eventually,” Dominic says flatly, and Hal can see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just wish I’d had a chance to explain it to her.”

“From what Tom said, she didn’t seem particularly open to explanations,” Alex replies, eyes darting between Dominic and Hal. When they land on Hal, he can see something else in her gaze, something dangerously close to fear. Hal swallows and averts his eyes.

He clears his throat and asks, “Where is Tom, anyway?”

Alex sighs. “Sulking in his room. He hasn’t come out since last night. It really has hit him hard.”

Hal’s eyes flick over to Dominic then, and he takes in the man’s confused frown. Before Dominic has the chance to speak, he says, “Tom and Natasha were… close.”

Dominic directs the frown at him when he replies, “Close, as in…”

Hal lets out a deep sigh and confirms, “Close, as in together.”

Alex’s eyes widen as they go back and forth between Hal and Dominic. “Listen,” she starts, obviously feeling like she needs to defend Tom somehow. “I know you don’t like Tom very much, but he really cares about Natasha. So I guess, what I mean to say is, you can keep your—”

“I wasn’t saying anything, Alex,” Dominic says in a flat, dejected voice, wide eyes fixed on some spot on the kitchen table. Alex’s brow is furrowed as she gives him a cautious glance.

“I just thought you would—”

Dominic takes a deep breath and says, “I’m not really in any position to judge, am I?” he says, flicking his eyes up from the table with a small, sad smile in Alex’s direction. Hal is suddenly, painfully aware of the distance between them, and he walks across the kitchen to take a seat at the table. His hand reaches out to intertwine with Dominic’s on the tabletop. Dominic looks up at him at the contact, directing the smile at him.

“I’m sure Tom will be glad to know that,” Hal says with a small smile of his own.

“Doesn’t make a difference now, though, does it?” Dominic replies quietly.

Hal is vaguely aware of the kettle boiling on the counter and Alex getting up to make their tea.

“She might come back yet,” Hal says, thumb caressing the back of Dominic’s hand while looking deeply into his blue eyes.

“She said she’d stake you if she saw you again.” Dominic’s gaze never waivers from his as he speaks.

“I’ll have to make sure to stay out of their way then,” Hal says matter-of-factly, then leans in to give Dominic a small, fleeting peck on the lips just as Alex returns to the table with their tea. He pulls back and turns towards his friend. “Thanks, Alex.”

“No worries,” the ghost says, and this time, when their eyes meet, the hint of fear from earlier is gone, and all he can see in her eyes instead is care and compassion.

***

Standing outside of Honolulu Heights on this cold Sunday evening, Hal wants nothing more than to grab Dominic’s hand, being mindful of the fresh bite mark on his wrist from less than an hour ago – Dominic’s ‘farewell gift’ to him – and pull him back into the house and upstairs to his room, to never let him go again. But his rational mind knows it’s not an option, knows that Dominic needs to be back at work tomorrow, that they won’t be able to see each other for another long week.

“Don’t go,” he hears himself say anyway, his subconscious obviously deciding to voice his thoughts. He is standing in front of Dominic, one hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, the other on the back of his head, holding him close to him.

“You know I have to,” Dominic murmurs, then tilts his head up for a small kiss. “Believe me that I’d much rather stay if I could.”

Hal sighs deeply. “I know,” he says, and captures Dominic’s lips in another, deeper kiss. He lightly nips Dominic’s bottom lip, making him whimper slightly in his throat.

“Don’t start,” Dominic whispers against his lips.

“If I did, would that mean you’d stay?” Hal says with a teasing smile.

“It would probably mean I’d pass out from blood loss, so yes, I suppose I would stay.” Dominic’s eyes are big and bright, and there is mirth in his voice as he speaks, but his words still cut into Hal like a knife.

“Don’t ever joke about that,” he says urgently, running his thumb over Dominic’s cheek.

“All right, I’m sorry,” Dominic concedes. When Hal keeps looking at him with a furrowed brow, he finally adds, “Don’t worry, please, Hal. I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Hal. “Let’s keep it that way.” After one last kiss, Dominic finally pulls away from him.

“I need to go,” he says, and Hal nods, watching him slowly back away down the path towards his parked car.

“Have a safe journey, and call me when you get there,” he calls after him, and Dominic throws him a bright smile.

“Will do.”


	27. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Hello?' he asks into the intercom.
> 
> 'Mr Rook?' a strange voice answers. 
> 
> Dominic frowns, but doesn’t see any reason to deny it, seeing as his name is written on the doorbell. 'Yes?' he replies.
> 
> 'My name is Detective Inspector Paul Casselli, I’m with the Metropolitan Police, Special Branch.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I have to admit that I had an absolute ball writing this chapter, start to finish. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

I can't pretend  
I don't need to defend  
Some part of me from you  
I know I've spent some time a-lying

\- Interpol, “The New”

 

Dominic wakes to the insistent sound of his alarm clock beeping. He groans loudly and pulls a pillow over his face. Whatever the clock says the time is, it is _way_ too early to get up. The alarm, however, is unrelenting, and with a groan, Dominic throws his hand out to snooze the offending device. With the piercing noise gone, he lets out a long breath and rolls over onto his side, never once opening his eyes. Fragments of his dream play out on the edges of his consciousness, in that strange state that is not quite sleep and not quite wakefulness, and he lets the memory of Hal’s cool hands caressing his body lull him further into slumber again.

 _Beep beep beep,_ the alarm clock goes again, what feels like mere seconds later. With a frustrated groan, Dominic throws the pillow that is still covering his head at the bedside table, causing the alarm clock to fall on the floor with a loud _clang_.

And still it beeps on.

There is nothing for it, Dominic thinks, and sits up slowly in his bed. The room starts spinning in front of him as he does, and he gives himself a long moment for his vestibular system to wake up before he moves again. He swallows repeatedly, trying to force down the nausea that is slowly rising into his throat.

He wouldn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but there has been a certain pattern to him finding it harder and harder to get up in the morning, ever since his move to London. Must be something to do with the mind-numbing stupidity of his new job.

After another long moment sitting on the edge of the bed, Dominic finally brings himself to get up and make his way slowly towards the bathroom. Splashing some cold water into his face, he instantly starts to feel better, and as his head comes back up, he catches his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

On the surface, Dominic thinks, he still looks exactly the same as he always has. Okay, so his hair is a little bit longer, and mussed up from sleep, there is a shadow of dark circles under his eyes that he never really used to notice before, and, of course, the ever present two small circular marks on the junction of his neck and shoulder, now clearly visible above the collar of his t-shirt. But other than that, he thinks that he hasn’t changed at all.

On the surface.

Thinking about everything that has happened in the last few months, Dominic is surprised he is even able to recognise himself at all, seeing as his whole life seems to have turned itself upside down. It was only when he was confronted with Natasha’s hurtful accusations, that he truly understood the full extent of how much he has changed.

The question is, would he want his old life back, if the opportunity presented itself? Dominic thinks about it for a long time, and decides that the answer is most definitely ‘no’.

Whatever that means.

He is jolted from his thoughts by the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing, and he frowns, looking at his watch. His frown deepens when he sees that it’s already five past eight. He must have snoozed the alarm more times than he realised.

Dominic quickly looks down at himself, wearing only a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, while the doorbell still rings incessantly. Who would come to see him this early on a Monday morning? It can’t possibly be Hal, he surely would have called or texted first. Alex probably wouldn’t bother ringing the bell at all and just materialise in his living room.

Natasha?

But no, why would she want to come and see him now, so soon after telling him that she needed time away.

Whoever it is, is extremely persistent, and with a sigh, Dominic quickly makes his way along the hallway to the front door.

“Hello?” he asks into the intercom.

“Mr Rook?” a strange voice answers.

Dominic frowns, but doesn’t see any reason to deny it, seeing as his name is written on the doorbell. “Yes?” he replies.

“My name is Detective Inspector Paul Casselli, I’m with the Metropolitan Police, Special Branch.”

Dominic’s stomach drops. He opens his mouth, but finds that he is at a loss of words, and a moment later, Detective Inspector Casselli continues.

“Mr Rook, please don’t be alarmed, I would merely like to ask you some questions.”

Dominic swallows down the bile that has started rising in his throat before he replies, “Of course, Detective Inspector. Let me open the door for you. I’m on the second floor.”

He can hear the buzz of the door release through the intercom, and the next moment, he sees black dots dance before his eyes and he just about manages to reach a hand out to steady himself against the wall before he topples face first into the intercom.

What do Special Branch want from him?

_Well, there are two very good reasons why they might want to talk to you._

Dominic’s heart speeds up uncontrollably as he pushes himself off the wall and stumbles back into his bedroom, throwing on a shirt and a pair of trousers in lightning speed before jogging back to the door, opening it and waiting for his guest to arrive. At least, he thinks distractedly, he had the sense to lock away the files before leaving for Barry on Friday.

The bell chimes on the lift, and a moment later the doors open to reveal a tall, muscular, dark-haired man in his forties. The man looks up at Dominic with a gruff expression on his face, grey eyes wandering over him, assessing him.

“Mr Rook?” he asks again.

“That’s me,” Dominic confirms with a rather forced smile, then steps aside to let the Detective Inspector through the door. “Please, come in.”

Casselli looks at him intensely as he steps over the threshold into the wide hallway. “I was hoping to catch you before you leave for work,” he explains his early visit.

“Oh, yes, I should be on my way very shortly,” Dominic says with a stiff nod.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Casselli says as he takes a seat in the large white armchair Dominic directed him to.

Dominic sits across from him on the sofa, back ramrod straight, finding it impossible to relax in the presence of the man. He sends another forced smile his way. “How can I help you, Inspector?”

“Well, isn’t that an interesting question?” Casselli asks back, a small, unsettling smile on his face. “I am aware of who you are, Mr Rook. As the officer in charge of the… supernatural element of our work, I must say that I admire the work that you and your department did in containing the threat.”

He pauses, and Dominic gives him a small nod. “Thank you.”

“Now, it just so happens that two separate supernatural-related incidents occurred in London in very quick succession in the last week.”

Dominic raises his eyebrows. “Indeed?”

Casselli gives him a sharp look and nods. “Yes. Don’t expect to have heard anything in the media, we made sure that neither of the two cases were leaked to the press.” He pauses again, briefly, before continuing. “The first incident I am referring to is a body that was found in Southwark, just over a week ago.”

Dominic’s heart is threatening to burst out of his chest by now, but he makes sure that he is a picture of perfect composure as he gives Casselli a small frown and asks, “And you suspect there is supernatural involvement?”

Casselli nods again. “The body was completely drained of blood, and there were two puncture marks on the left side of the neck.” Casselli pulls a photograph out of his bag and places it on the coffee table in front of Dominic. He takes a fleeting glance and sees a close up shot of the mugger’s neck, two gaping red holes marring the skin. The bite marks on Dominic’s own neck start itching uncomfortably, and he barely manages to suppress the urge to scratch. His hand finds the ones on his left wrist instead and rubs them discreetly through his shirt cuff. Looking back up at Casselli, he finds the man looking at him expectantly.

“You think it might be the work of a Type 2?” Dominic asks, his voice only wavering very slightly, fighting against the urge to hyperventilate.

“You don’t?” Casselli counters, nodding towards the picture on the table in front of Dominic again.

Dominic gives the picture another look and states, “It certainly looks like it, yes.” Casselli is silent for a moment, prompting Dominic to look up at the man and continue, “Why are you coming to me with it, though?”

Casselli looks straight into his eyes as he says, “I was wondering if you knew anything about it.”

Dominic thinks he might pass out if his heart starts beating any faster. “No, of course not.”

“Now that’s an interesting answer,” Casselli says, those piercing grey eyes never leaving his. “Because we have CCTV footage that shows someone who looks an awful lot like you, running at full speed down a road adjacent to the crime scene, only moments after the incident supposedly happened.”

Dominic’s breath hitches in his throat. No. This can’t be true. How can they possibly have been so careless?

_You were in shock. No one can blame you for what you did when it happened. And Hal… well, he was not exactly himself either, was he?_

“There is no CCTV camera at the crime scene itself, but then it would hardly make a difference, would it, with a Type 2?” Casselli continues, almost conversationally.

Dominic swallows and shakes his head. What can he possibly say?

“Listen, Mr Rook, all I want from you is some information. It is obvious from the footage that you were… chasing… the perpetrator. What I would like to know is, was it a case of ‘in the right place at the right time’, or were you actually there because you expected the Type 2 to attack?”

“You mean was I tracking the Type 2?” Dominic asks, his breaths starting to come a little bit easier. Casselli nods, and Dominic shakes his head in response. “No. I was merely in the right place at the right time, as you put it.”

“Hmm,” Casselli hums, obviously not quite happy with the answer. “Well, be that as it may, I have to tell you, Mr Rook, that you can’t go on chasing supernaturals without the official jurisdiction. This is our job now, you are no longer involved. By going after the Type 2 yourself, you didn’t just put yourself in danger, but you could easily have interfered with official police business, do you understand?”

Dominic bristles at the man’s words. Who does he think he is to talk to him like that? But he knows that if he wants to have any chance to throw Casselli off Hal’s trail, he has to play along. He sighs deeply and says, “Yes, of course I do.”

“I take it you didn’t catch the Type 2?” Casselli asks then.

“No, I didn’t.” Dominic says quietly.

“Is there anything you can tell me about them? Physical appearance? Name and registration number if you have them?”

Dominic shakes his head again. “Don’t have a name, I’m afraid. I’d never come across that one before.” He takes a deep breath, thinking on his feet as he continues, “It was a female. Short stature, about five foot, perhaps five foot one. Long, blonde hair, in a ponytail.”

He looks at Casselli, hoping that his description would be enough to get him off his back. The man has a slight frown on his face as he meets his eyes. “A female?”

Dominic nods emphatically. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t fit, then,” Casselli mumbles, almost to himself.

“Fit with what?” Dominic asks, and Casselli shakes himself before answering.

“The second incident,” he says loudly, and at Dominic’s expectant look, continues, “You will be interested to know that there was a break-in at Scotland Yard on Thursday evening.”

Dominic does his best to feign shock at the Inspector’s words. “A break-in?”

Casselli nods. “Yes. One of the security guards saw what he described as a pile of files, floating along in mid-air. He called out to tell whoever was… levitating… the files to stop moving, and the next moment the whole pile of files just… disappeared.”

Dominic looks at Casselli with big eyes. “What do you think happened?”

“You tell me, Mr Rook, you’re the supernatural expert.”

Dominic takes a deep breath and says, “It sounds like a Type 1 to me.”

Casselli nods, looking pleased. “That’s the same conclusion I came to.” He reaches into his bag again, pulling out a printed list and putting it on the table, on top of the photograph. “This is a list of the files that were taken. There are nine in total.”

Dominic’s eyes skim over the list. There are the familiar supernatural incidents that he asked Alex to get, as well as the personal files for Emil Parsons, Hal, and Tom. Dominic’s breath hitches at the last one. The file about the blood bank where he found Natasha. Did she ask Alex to get the file for her? Dominic wouldn’t put it past her.

“Our immediate thought was that this Type 2,” Casselli’s finger taps on Hal’s registration number on the list, “may have had something to do with the attack.”

Dominic frowns. “I don’t really see the connection.”

“Well, it’s odd, isn’t it? A Type 2 attack, out of the blue, with no previous incidents in that area for… oh… a good few months, at least. And less than a week later, a supernatural breaks into our archive to steal this file.” Casselli’s finger taps Hal’s number again.

“It could just be coincidence,” Dominic says, but even to him, it sounds like a weak excuse.

“Our records show that you are familiar with SJ031,” Casselli says, eyes piercing into him once more.

Dominic’s heart speeds up again unbidden. “That’s right,” he chokes out past the growing lump in his throat.

“I understand that you approached him and offered him to work for you.”

“Yes,” Dominic confirms. “He declined.”

“Hmm.” Casselli looks thoughtful. “What is your assessment of him? Do you think he may have something to do with it?”

Dominic shakes his head immediately. “No. In fact, the reason I approached him was because both he and his housemate—” at Casselli’s creased brow, he throws in, “—the Type 3—” Casselli nods, and he continues, “—appeared to be trustworthy. They both have a track record of not causing any problems that required our intervention for the last… sixty years, at least.”

Casselli nods again, thinks about this for a short moment, then says, “But you know as well as I do, Mr Rook, that no Type 2 is ever entirely trustworthy.”

Dominic swallows hard to try and get rid of that pesky lump in his throat and, ignoring his racing heart, shakes his head with a solemn expression on his face. “I really don’t think that this Type 2 had anything to do with it, Inspector.”

Casselli raises his eyebrows. “I would be interested to know what makes you so certain.”

“As you say,” Dominic starts, holding Casselli’s gaze, “I approached him to work for me, and while he declined to work together officially, I did have dealings with both him and the Type 3 a couple of times since. They have been nothing but helpful and cooperative. However, if word got out to any other supernaturals of their… involvement… with my department, that could potentially make them a target.”

Casselli mulls that over for a moment before replying. “So you are saying that whoever stole the files could be _targeting_ these two, rather than covering something up?”

Dominic nods. “Yes.”

Casselli takes a long time to respond again, and Dominic takes a few slow, deliberate breaths to try and slow his heartbeat. “That does sound feasible, if you put it that way,” he says eventually, and Dominic lets out a silent breath of relief.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” Dominic says, and then, making a big point of glancing at his watch, adds, “I’m really sorry, Inspector, but I do need to leave for work. If you have any further questions, I will of course be happy to assist you again.” With a big, plastered-on smile, he stands from the sofa, indicating to Casselli that the conversation is over.

“Thank you for your insights, Mr Rook,” Casselli says, standing as well. “I may be in touch if there are any new developments.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Dominic replies, and subtly ushers the other man towards the front door. “Have a good day.”

Once the door has closed behind Casselli, Dominic lets out a deep sigh and leans forward to rest his forehead against the door, swallowing repeatedly. His heart is still racing in his chest, and he is starting to feel slightly nauseous.

That was way too close for his liking.

***

“Dominic, are you all right?” Sarah’s concerned voice drifts over from the desk by the window as Dominic makes his way into the office half an hour later.

He gives her a small smile and nods. “Yes, I’m fine. Tube got delayed,” he explains his late arrival.

Sarah groans. “Oh, don’t I know it. It’s a nightmare this time of the morning, isn’t it?”

With another nod, Dominic shrugs out of his coat, hangs it up on the coat rack by the door, and makes his way over to his desk to switch on his computer. He looks up as a pair of footsteps approach his desk.

“Dominic, hey, you finally made it,” Tracey says with a smile, and he smiles back at her tiredly. It may only be quarter past nine in the morning, but he feels about ready to drop.

Tracey frowns slightly as her eyes wander over him. “You look pale, hun, are you all right?”

Dominic nods unconvincingly. “Yes, Tracey, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night, is all.”

Tracey’s frown only deepens. “Have you sorted things out with Hal yet?”

Dominic sighs inwardly. Why can’t she just leave things alone already? “Yes, I have, thanks.” It’s close enough to the truth, he thinks. He and Hal are certainly in a much better place than they have been for at least a week.

Tracey smiles. “That’s good. Are you going to bring him ‘round sometime soon? Or at least convince him to have a picture taken?”

Dominic actually does sigh this time around. “That’s a definite ‘no’ on the picture front, Tracey. I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him otherwise. Why are you so desperate to meet him, anyway?”

Tracey has a glint in her eyes when she replies, “As I said before, just want to make sure that he actually exists.”

Dominic raises his eyebrows. “Why would I make him up?”

Tracey just winks at him and makes her way back to her own desk, leaving Dominic to frown at thin air. He trains his eyes on his computer screen instead, bringing up his email account and skimming through any new messages, trying not to think too much about his annoying, nosy work colleagues or his worrying encounter with Detective Inspector Casselli earlier this morning. He always used to be able to lose himself in his work, to a point where nothing else in his life really mattered. Perhaps, he thinks, he can learn to care about songbird conservation enough for it to serve a similar purpose. God knows he could certainly do with a distraction.

***

“Hal, we need to talk,” Alex’s voice reaches him from where she is standing in the doorway, watching him cook dinner.

Hal drops the wooden spoon he is holding onto the counter and turns around to face his friend. “Talk about what?” he asks, but truth be told, he has a pretty good idea what Alex is referring to.

Alex drops her eyes to the floor as she continues, “I… some of the things I read in that file…” she drifts off, obviously not sure how to finish her train of thought.

Hal sighs. “I’m sorry, Alex. I was hoping to keep that kind of information from you.”

Alex shakes her head, looking back up at him. “No, I’m glad I’ve read it, in a way. It makes me understand who you are a whole lot better, if that makes any sense.” Hal gives her a small nod, leaning back against the counter. “The thing is, some of the things in that file… I just can’t picture you actually doing those things. I mean, even the you that I met at the bar, after you had the blood. I just… I don’t really know where I’m going with this,” she finishes with a small, embarrassed laugh.

Hal swallows and looks away. “Do you remember when I was in the chair?” he asks then. Alex nods, and he continues, “The way I was then, that was the closest you would have seen to what the other one is like. That’s why I said that, should I ever revert to him, I want you to kill me.”

“Well, that’s never gonna happen,” Alex says too quickly, with another short laugh.

Hal sighs. “Alex—”

“No, Hal. I already told you I can’t kill you, all right? I don’t wish to have this conversation again.”

Hal nods, his brow furrowing. “All right.”

After a long silence, Alex suddenly asks, “Is it like that for all vampires?”

Hal isn’t entirely sure what she means, and tells her as much.

Alex bites her lip slightly and frowns. “The way you talk about ‘the other one’, as if it’s a separate person to you. It just seems… I don’t know… a bit weird?”

Hal gives her a small smile. “It is a bit weird. And no, it’s not something that happens to all vampires. I… when I was young, I experienced a lot of… horrible things. Things that I didn’t really know how to deal with, so I compartmentalised a lot of it. When I was turned into a vampire, I guess I took my newfound power to create a whole new, separate identity, to block out all of the unpleasant memories, all the things that, in my eyes, made me weak. I locked all of them away, to a point where I didn’t feel the hurt anymore, but I also didn’t really feel much of anything else. That’s what… the other one… is.”

He looks back at Alex, and finds her staring at him with wide eyes. “Well, that’s definitely not what I was expecting.”

“Sorry,” Hal mutters, realising that he may have overshared.

“Don’t apologise,” Alex says gently, and walks over to where he is standing. She comes to a stop right in front of him, and reaches out a hand to carefully touch his arm. “Thank you for being so open with me,” she says with a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with anyone,” Hal says, with a little embarrassed chuckle of his own.

“Well, that’s what friends are for, huh?” Alex says, and he chuckles again.

“Thanks, Alex.”

She just smiles at him again, and he suddenly gets a feeling like they are standing too close, and her eyes drop down for a moment, and he feels like the air he is breathing is getting stuck in his throat. He notices her leaning closer, and in a split-second reaction turns his head to the side just in time to prevent their lips from touching.

Alex jumps back as if burned, her eyes wide and obviously surprised at her own actions. “Shit, Hal, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Hal’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks back at her. “Well, erm…”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says again, and the next moment, she disappears with a puff of air.

***

When Alex returns to the living room half an hour later to take her seat at the dinner table, she looks perfectly calm and composed, giving him a disarming smile, and Hal decides not to bring the issue of their almost-kiss back up again. Instead, he busies himself with dishing up food for himself and Tom, who he hopes will finally join them for dinner again this evening.

“He really is taking it very hard,” Alex comments as she watches him piling a generous helping of lasagne on Tom’s plate.

“He cares about her a lot. I think we can all sympathise with that,” Hal says, and Alex nods.

“Hey guys,” Tom’s voice comes over from the door then, and Hal looks up to take in his friend. Tom looks tired, unshaven, his eyes are red-rimmed and there is a deep crease in his brow. He is scratching the back of his head over his scar absentmindedly.

“Hi, Tom,” Hal says with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Tom says gruffly and takes a seat at the table.

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” Alex says, for what must surely be the tenth time by now. Tom just glares at her for a moment before picking up his fork and attacking his lasagne.

Hal shares a look with Alex before speaking up again. “Tom,” he says, and the werewolf’s tired eyes look up at him. “She was my friend, too,” he continues, and Tom’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah, well, me'n her weren’t just ‘friends’ though, were we, Hal?”

“No, I know that,” says Hal slowly. “What I’m trying to say is, Alex has apologised many times for what she’s done. It wasn’t done on purpose, and it was an easy mistake to make. I just think that it might be time to at least recognise that she’s sorry and move on.”

Tom huffs, but starts to slowly deflate as he mulls Hal’s words over in his mind. Looking over at Alex, he mutters, “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you, Tom,” says Alex.

“It weren’t just your fault anyway,” Tom continues, looking at Hal. Hal raises his eyebrows at him, and he continues, “If it weren’t for you lyin’ to her, none of it would of happened.”

“Tom,” Hal says, “If it wasn’t for _us_ lying to her, she would never have let you get close to her to begin with, because she would’ve tried to kill me on the spot.”

“She didn’t, though, did she? When she confronted ya at the hotel?” Tom shoots back.

Hal shakes his head. “No, but apparently she said to Dominic that she would if she ever sees me again.”

Tom swallows. “I didn’t know that.” He goes back to his food for a moment, taking a mouthful of lasagne. Hal turns back to his own plate and is surprised when Tom speaks up again. “I did try to defend ya, but she just wouldn’t hear it.”

“You have to understand, Tom,” Hal explains, “her first and only real experience with vampires was… well, less than friendly, to say the least.”

“Yeah, but you could say the same thing ‘bout me,” Tom throws in.

“Or me,” Alex adds, and Hal raises his eyebrows in her direction.

“ _Your_ first experience with vampires was… me,” he states.

Alex huffs out a humourless laugh. “Yes, and the second was you after you’d been drinking blood, and believe me, you were creepy as fuck.” Hal opens his mouth to argue, but Alex continues, “And the third was Cutler, and the less said about _that_ , the better…” She trails off suddenly, her eyes going almost comically wide as she gives Hal a very funny look. “Oh my God,” she breathes, shaking her head, and when he just continues to look at her expectantly, she adds, “I just realised. You and Cutler.”

Hal’s eyebrows lift towards his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Wha’?” Tom asks then, confused eyes darting back and forth between them. “Wha’ about you and Cutler?”

Alex turns back to Hal and continues, “Of course, it makes so much sense now, the way the two of you were talking in that basement. Shit, he had it bad for you, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hal says quickly, trying and failing to shut down her line of questioning.

“Don’t play dumb, Hal, please,” she says. “But… urgh, seriously, Cutler? I mean, did you actually shag him?”

Hal swallows convulsively and closes his eyes, desperately trying to keep his composure. “Yes,” he says after a moment. “I guess you could say that I did.”

Alex lets out a high-pitched laugh. “Now I’ve really heard it all.”

Tom throws him a disgusted look. “Really, mate? You sure have awful taste.”

“Look, I’m sorry, all right” he says, looking back and forth between his two friends. “He was different back then.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure he was,” Alex says with a bizarre mixture of disgust and smugness written on her face.

 _Yes, he was. He was innocent and kind and gentle, and you destroyed him, made him into the monster that killed one of your friends and almost destroyed the life of another,_ the voice at the back of his mind taunts him. He ignores it.

“He was. And so was I,” he says, throwing Alex a meaningful look. She narrows her eyes at him for a long moment, but eventually seems to get his meaning.

“Still means you’ve been shagging Cutler,” she mutters, and shudders. Silence falls at the table for a long moment, and the atmosphere in the room noticeably dips. “So, either of you guys gonna watch _MasterChef_ with me?” Alex speaks up again eventually, clearly in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

Hal gives her a little frown and asks, “Why are you still watching cooking shows, Alex?”

“I like food,” is her deadpan answer.

“Yes, but—”

“What?” Alex throws in, narrowing her eyes at him again.

Hal shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“So?” Alex persists, and he gives her a big sigh.

“All right then,” he says. Turning towards his werewolf friend, he asks, “Tom?”

“Nah, mate,” Tom says with a frown. “I’m not really into all that fancy cookin’ stuff.” With that, he gets up and starts gathering the dishes before disappearing into the kitchen. Silence falls at the table for a long moment as Hal and Alex both look after their friend with almost identical frowns on their faces.

“He’ll come around,” Hal says eventually, and Alex nods.

“I know.”

They both get up and move over to the sofa, and Alex reaches for the TV remote, flicking through the channels until she finds what she is looking for. Relaxing back with a satisfied hum, she gives Hal a big smile, and he can’t help but return it, glad that the awkwardness from their earlier encounter has all but disappeared.

About ten minutes into the programme, Hal watches one of the contestants chopping some vegetables as he is unexpectedly reminded of the meal he cooked for Dominic on their date. A wistful smile plays on his lips at the memory, and he is overcome with a sudden and painful feeling of longing for his boyfriend. He gives a quick, sideways glance to Alex, who seems completely engrossed in the programme, and pulls out his phone, quickly typing out a text message.

**Hey Blondie, how’s London? Xx**

It doesn’t take Dominic long at all to respond, and he smiles in fond exasperation as he reads his reply.

_**Lonely without you, Fangboy xx** _

Hal shakes his head. Fangboy. Well, if he really wants to play that game…

**What is it that you actually miss, me or my fangs?**

Dominic doesn’t write back immediately, this time, and looking over at Alex again, he can see that she has been watching him.

“How’s Dominic?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, and Hal swallows down the embarrassment of having been caught.

Making sure his screen is locked and well out of her line of sight, he replies, “He’s good.”

Alex gives him a teasing smile. “Uh huh.” His phone vibrates again in his hand, but he keeps his eyes firmly on Alex, ignoring the message. After a long moment of just looking at each other, Alex finally says, “You’ve got a new message.”

He nods. “I know.”

Alex heaves a dramatic sigh and turns back towards the TV. “All right, I get it. The conversation is private.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hal mutters before reading Dominic’s message.

_**A bit of both?** _

Hal can’t help the grin spreading on his face at the reply. He promptly writes back.

**I knew it. You're objectifying me.**

This time, Dominic’s reply comes through a lot quicker than before.

_**That's ridiculous, Hal. It just so happens that I quite like... you know** _

Hal actually lets out a little chuckle, then. He can completely picture the furious blush on Dominic’s face as he wrote the message. All the more reason to tease the man a little bit more…

**Quite like what?**

_**Hal, no** _

“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easily,” Hal mutters, earning a sideways glance from Alex.

“What did he say?” she asks, but Hal ignores her, typing out the question again.

**Quite like what?**

_**You know what!** _

“What on Earth are you guys talking about?” Alex asks with raised eyebrows, and only then does Hal realise he must still be smiling like an idiot.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly.

“I probably don’t want to know, huh?” she asks with a laugh.

_No, Alex, you really don’t._

She turns back around to the TV, muttering something about sexting, and Hal takes the opportunity to send another message.

**Come on, Blondie, I want you to say it**

Hal looks at his phone screen for a long moment, but there is no reply. Heaving a small sigh, he puts his phone down in his lap and looks back at the TV, where someone is preparing a dessert. Several minutes pass without another message, and eventually, Hal gives up. He glances at his phone occasionally, but Dominic appears to have abandoned the conversation. Maybe, Hal thinks, he has pushed him too far. It was only meant to be a bit of teasing, but Hal realises that the last time they spoke about this, Dominic did end up getting very defensive. It doesn’t seem to be something he is particularly comfortable with discussing.

“Oh my God, Hal, look at that chocolate gâteau!” Alex exclaims then, and Hal looks up from his phone towards his friend, who is staring at the screen with wide eyes. Following her gaze to the screen, he sees the gâteau in question, which does indeed look very appetising. “I’ll never be able to eat cake again,” Alex adds mournfully, turning towards him.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he says.

Just as she is about to reply, there is a loud crash in the kitchen, and both of their heads whip around towards the commotion. The swinging doors remain shut, and there isn’t any more noise coming from the room. Hal quickly looks back at Alex.

“I’ll go see what’s going on,” he says and stands from the sofa, making his way towards the kitchen.

When he enters the room, he finds Tom with his fist under the running tap, streams of red running from the palm of his hand into the sink. Hal’s immediate instinct is to flare his nostrils at the sight of the blood, but it smells all wrong, of course. Nevertheless the sight of it makes tendrils of hunger stir deep within Hal, and it takes him a moment to realise that he has been standing in the door, staring at his friend’s hand, for much longer than would be considered appropriate.

“You all right, Hal?” Tom asks, and Hal tears his eyes away from his hand to look at his friend’s face instead. Tom’s brow is furrowed as he looks at him carefully. “This bother you?” he asks, waving his hand under the water.

Hal shakes his head. “No, not really. I… it just… it looks the same.” He takes a deep breath and gives him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Tom.” Then, realising too late that this is what he’s come in to find out in the first place, he looks around the kitchen, notices the broken plate on the floor, and asks, “Are _you_ okay? What happened?”

“Nothin’. Just dropped the plate, while I was washin’ it,” Tom says sheepishly. Hal’s eyes wander back to Tom’s hand again, and Tom quickly adds, “It’s okay, Hal, don’t worry. Cut’s not that bad. Just leave me to it.”

It’s the polite way of telling him to leave, Hal realises, and with a nod and a smile to his friend, he does just that. As he comes back into the living room he sees Alex still sitting on the sofa, but she is no longer watching the TV. Instead, she is holding his phone in her hand and staring at the screen like it has personally offended her somehow. His thoughts go back to his text conversation with Dominic, and his breath catches in his throat.

_Looks like he finally got back to you, then._

Hal feels the bottom drop out of his stomach as he slowly walks over to the sofa and Alex looks up at him. There is no hint of humour in her eyes now.

“Tell me he’s joking, Hal,” she says, but the tone of her voice makes it clear that she wouldn’t accept the excuse even if he was stupid enough to make it. He just looks at her for a long moment, panic in his eyes. He didn’t mean for it to come out like this.

“Can I see it?” he asks faintly, gesturing to the phone, and Alex shoves it in his face without another word.

_**I quite like your fangs in my neck. There. Happy now?** _

Hal wants to laugh, wants to deny how incredibly horny the text is making him even now, even with Alex sitting there glaring bloody murder at him, but all he can do is stare.

“How long, Hal?” she asks, and he doesn’t need to ask for clarification.

“About two months.”

Alex’s eyes narrow dangerously as she slowly stands up from the sofa, gaze never leaving him. “Two months?” she repeats, her voice filled with barely suppressed rage. “Two months you’ve been lying to us? Keeping secrets from us? Instead of coming to us and telling us that you’re having problems, that you needed help, you just went and grabbed the nearest available human and sank your fucking teeth into his neck?”

“It was him who offered it, actually,” Hal defends himself, cringing inwardly the next moment when he realises how pathetic an excuse it is.

“How _dare_ you, Hal? He actually cares about you, and you… you’re… using him like that. You know what, I never thought I’d ever say this, but I actually feel sorry for Dominic. I’m disgusted by you.”

“Alex—” But he never gets to finish his sentence as his friend has disappeared in front of his eyes, dropping his phone on the floor with a loud _clang._


	28. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He can feel Tom’s and Alex’s eyes on him, Tom’s confused, Alex’s furious. Taking a deep sigh, he says, 'Okay, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again so much for reading! 
> 
> My heart broke a little bit when writing this chapter...
> 
> Enjoy!

You see the way how it happens right  
This beast inside me  
He leads the way  
Then he's at my side  
We feast ‘til I'm starving

\- Interpol, “Breaker 1”

 

The by now familiar whoosh of air close to the door makes Dominic look up from his phone screen. _What immaculate timing, Alex,_ he thinks with an internal eye roll, still feeling the flush in his cheeks from the text message he has just written. He still can’t quite believe he actually gave in to Hal’s teasing.

Trying to look as composed as possible, he dials Alex’s number, and hears the Type 1 say “Hi Dominic” a moment later. The first thing he notices is that there is something very wrong about the tone of her voice, but he doesn’t quite get a good grasp on what exactly it is he is hearing through the phone speaker.

“Everything all right, Alex?” he asks, a small frown forming on his face.

The Type 1 takes a deep, shaky breath before she answers, “No. No, everything is not all right, Dominic.” She pauses for a moment, and he can sense her presence moving around the room and coming to sit across from him in the armchair. “Something is very much not all right,” she adds quietly.

He does his best to look in her direction, his frown growing. “Can you… elaborate on that?” he asks carefully.

She takes another deep breath, and then the words rush out so fast that he can barely keep up. “Why did you let him do it?”

Dominic feels a growing sense of dread at the pit of his stomach. “Do what?” he asks, a lump forming in his throat. She doesn’t answer for a long moment, and the horrifying truth of the situation slowly manifests itself in Dominic’s mind. “You saw the text, didn’t you.”

Her voice is very small when she replies, “Yes.”

Dominic squeezes his eyes tightly shut, swallows compulsively, wishes himself far away from this room, where his deepest secrets are suddenly being laid bare. He opens his mouth, but no sound is coming out.

“I’m not blaming you, Dominic,” Alex says then, in a voice that is far too gentle for the situation.

He lets out a harsh laugh, eyes still tightly shut. “Who do you think is to blame? Hal? He’s only doing what he has to to survive.”

“That’s bullshit, Dominic, and you know it. He’s doing it because he wants to—”

Dominic shakes his head, finally opening his eyes again, even though of course he still isn’t able to see her. “No, Alex. It was me who started it all. Without me, he never would have got himself into that situation in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, and he can hear the frown in her voice.

It’s Dominic’s turn to take a deep breath before he starts to explain, “You know I spoke to Hal, at the hotel, when he and Tom where going for the interviews.”

“Yes,” Alex confirms.

Dominic nods. “When I spoke to him, I… left something for him. An incentive, if you will.”

“You gave him blood?” Alex asks, and there is a dark, dangerous undertone in her voice now. Dominic swallows and nods. “But he was clean, he was doing well, why would you do that?”

Dominic gives her a small, sad smile. “Because I know better than to believe that any Type 2 can stay off blood forever.”

“Vampire,” Alex says abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“Vampire. Not ‘Type 2’. I’m sick of you talking about us like we’re some kind of lab specimen.”

He looks down at his lap, thinking about what she said for a long moment. “That’s not—” he starts, but stops himself a moment later. “You’re right,” he says instead, looking back up in her direction. “You’re much more than that.”

He hears her huff slightly through the phone speaker. “With what I’ve learned about Hal tonight, I’m not actually so sure about that anymore.”

“It’s not his fault, Alex.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because it was you who seduced him,” she grumbles.

Dominic nods, looking down again. “Yes. And when he came back to me, to ask for more, I… gave it to him.”

She is silent for a long moment before she says, “You mean you let him drink from you.”

His eyes snap up, forgetting momentarily that she is still invisible to him, and he fixes his gaze on the backrest of the armchair. He tries again to swallow down the lump in his throat, and then he slowly nods.

She is once again silent for too long, and he is about to open his mouth to say something else when he hears her speak again, almost too quiet for the phone to pick up. “Shit,” she breathes, and then, “How did you manage to hide those for all this time.”

Heat starts creeping into his face when he realises she is looking at his neck. When he is alone at home, he has started wearing t-shirts that don’t rub on the sensitive skin of either his neck or wrist, and it’s only now that he realises he has both marks clearly on display for her. Well, if she hadn’t known already, she certain would now.

He realises that he hasn’t said anything, and a moment later Alex asks, “Can I… do you mind if I have a closer look?”

He heaves a deep sigh. “No, go on.”

He can sense her presence shifting again, this time coming to sit next to him on the sofa. He feels a cold tingle on his neck and shudders.

“I’m sorry, did you feel that?” Alex asks, and he nods. “Do you mind?”

“No, Alex, go right ahead,” he chokes out, staring down at his hands in his lap again, swallowing repeatedly. In reality, he has never felt more ashamed than he does in this moment.

The cold, tingling feeling is back, and then the next moment he feels it not on his neck, but on his left wrist, and there is the barest pressure to turn his arm over, further exposing the mark on the inside of his wrist. His own eyes fall on it – dark pink, slightly raised scar tissue. To Dominic, it looks oddly beautiful. Like it belongs there.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Alex asks quietly, her fingers still brushing against his wrist in what could almost be described as a caress. Dominic wonders if she is aware of what she is doing.

He nods. “Yes, it does.”

“But doesn’t that bother you? I mean, hey, I suppose the vampire that killed me was probably less than gentle when he bit me, but… shit, Dominic, how often does he do that to you?”

Dominic’s voice is hoarse around the lump in his throat, eyes still fixed on his wrist, when he replies, “Every few days.”

“Every few days, for _two months_?” she splutters. He nods. “How are you even still standing?”

He chuckles darkly. “He makes sure he never takes more than my body can replace in the times in between.”

 _Only, recently it has been a lot more frequently than that, hasn’t it?_ A voice in Dominic’s mind pipes up. He swallows again.

Alex is quiet for a moment, obviously thinking about what he said. “But… no, Dominic. I can’t fucking accept that. You’re not some… I don’t know… dairy cow for vampires. It’s not right.”

Dominic lets out a sharp laugh at her words. “You’re not too far off actually,” he says darkly, remembering his argument with Hal about the meal he cooked him, what seems like such a long time ago now.

“And you’re okay with that?” Alex asks, disbelief heavy in her voice.

He shakes his head emphatically. “No, that I’m not okay with. But… there are other factors.” He feels heat creep back into his cheeks again. He most certainly does _not_ want to explain this to her. But, as it turns out, he doesn’t have to.

“I know, because you have some kind of fang fetish or something,” she says, and he feels his blush intensify, his eyes widening at her words. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you talk about that. It’s what it is, I don’t need to know any more than I already do.”

He heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, to be honest, I’ve already got way more disturbing images in my head than I ever wanted after seeing your text.”

Despite everything, and possibly because of all the pent-up tension of the last twenty minutes, Dominic can’t help the sudden laugh that bursts forth from his lips. He is relieved when he hears her join in a moment later.

“Weirdo,” she mutters, but he can hear the smile in her voice. He rolls his eyes and snorts.

***

“Hal, you in there, mate?” Tom’s voice comes through the closed door to his room. Hal is sitting on the sofa, an open and half empty flask in his hand, gaze fixed on the dark red liquid inside.

“Come in,” he calls, barely loud enough to carry all the way across the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hal can see the door handle move and Tom carefully pushing the door open, sticking his head into the room. “You all right, Hal?” he asks with a frown. Then, eyes wandering to the item in Hal’s hand, his frown deepens. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s Dominic’s,” Hal says quietly, eyes still fixed on the flask.

Tom takes a hesitant step into the room. “You mean it’s his blood in that flask?”

Hal tears his eyes away from the flask finally, looks up at his friend and nods.

“I didn’t realise he was one of the donors,” Tom says, and Hal can clearly hear the disgust in his voice.

Hal gives him a small chuckle. “He’s the only one.”

Tom’s frown, if at all possible, deepens even more. “What do you mean?”

Hal heaves a long sigh before saying, “There never were any other donors. It’s only ever been him, Tom.”

“So you lied to me?” Tom shoots back at him.

Hal looks him directly in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

With another sigh, he says, “Because I was afraid.”

“Of what?” Tom asks, taking another step closer to the sofa. Hal’s eyes wander back down the flask in his hand.

“Of what you would say if I told you,” he admits.

“Sorry, Hal, but I’m not sure I know what you’re talkin’ about,” Tom says, and Hal gives him a small, sad smile.

“Maybe I should let Alex explain,” he says.

Looking around him, Tom replies, “Yeah, where is Alex anyway?”

“Probably talking to Dominic, seeing as his phone has been engaged for the last twenty minutes,” Hal says flatly, and Tom’s frown deepens again.

“What am I missin’ here, Hal? Did you and Alex have a fight? Is it about the blood?”

“Yes, Tom,” Hal confirms. “Alex and I did have a fight, and it was about the blood. And if I’m not completely mistaken, she is right now trying to convince Dominic to never see me again.”

“Wrong,” Alex’s voice suddenly pops up, and Hal’s eyes flick up to see her standing on the other side of the room. “Turns out he’s too stubborn to listen to reason.” Her voice is cold and hostile, and Tom turns around, taking her in with creased brows.

“Can someone please explain to me what’s goin’ on?” he asks.

In that moment, Alex’s eyes fall on the flask in Hal’s hand, and she throws him a furious look. “Are you serious, Hal? I thought it was bad enough to actually see the bite marks, but he _bottles_ it for you to take home with you as well?”

“I’d never make it through the week otherwise,” Hal says quietly, and she scoffs.

“I can’t believe you did this right under our noses, for _two fucking months_ , and we never realised.”

“Tom did,” Hal says then, eyes wandering to his werewolf friend. Alex turns around sharply to Tom.

“What?” she asks.

Tom’s eyes widen, looking between Hal and Alex. “What bite marks?” he asks eventually.

Hal lets out a loud, exasperated groan and gets up, putting the flask down on the bedside table. He can feel Tom’s and Alex’s eyes on him, Tom’s confused, Alex’s furious. Taking a deep sigh, he says, “Okay, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page.” He pauses briefly, sees both of his friends nod, takes a deep breath and continues, “I’m drinking blood again. Have been for the last two months.” He sees Alex throwing an accusing look at Tom, but Tom only nods, prompting Hal to continue. “I’ve been given the blood by Dominic.”

At this, Alex lets out a snort. “ _Given_ is a nice word for _bitten him in the neck_.”

“Wha’?” Tom asks, brow creasing again.

Hal sighs. “Alex is right, Tom,” he says, looking down. “But it is as I said. It’s always been consensual.”

“So you knew?” Alex turns back towards Tom, narrowing her eyes at him. “For how long?”

“About a month,” Tom says quietly, then adds, louder, “But I didn’t know nowt ‘bout _biting_. That’s disgusting, Hal.”

“Dominic doesn’t seem to think so,” Hal mutters under his breath, earning a sharp look from Alex.

Turning back around to the ghost, Tom adds, “He made me promise not to tell ya, Alex.”

Alex scoffs. “I don’t believe this.”

“Alex,” Hal throws in. “He’s right. I asked him not to tell you, because I was afraid of your reaction.”

“And you were right to be,” Alex shoots back at him. “Fuck you, Hal, you told us to _never_ let you do that again. You were supposed to come to us when it got too much, not run off to Dominic and beg him for more.”

Hal lets out a humourless chuckle. “So he told you about that.”

Alex nods. “Yes. He did. He seems to have convinced himself that it was all his responsibility.”

Hal can’t help the small smile that grows on his lips. “That does sound like him.”

“Okay, right, let’s get back on topic, please, Hal. You lied to us. You broke your promise. I don’t know how the hell you convinced Tom to accept what you were doing, but don’t think for one second that I will be as gullible.”

“I’m not gullible,” Tom argues, but Alex ignores him.

“I can’t believe you told me that whole sob story about your difficult childhood, and how you’re so afraid of reverting back to… whatever, the other you, and all that time you were keeping this from me.” She throws him a calculating look, then. “Did you ever do it here? In the house?”

Hal looks down and nods. “A few times.”

“A few times,” Alex repeats slowly. “Urgh, Hal, I don’t even want to look at you right now. You’re making me sick.”

“Alex—” Hal starts, but is promptly interrupted.

“No, Hal. I think I’ve heard enough. I don't want to be around you anymore. I think you should leave.”

Hal can’t help but let out a sharp, slightly hysterical laugh at her words. “Last time I looked _you_ moved in with _us_ , Alex. What do you think gives you the right to throw me out?”

“Don’t do this, Hal,” Alex says, voice dangerous.

“She’s right, Hal,” Tom says, and in that moment, he knows he has lost. “I shouldn’t of let ya get away with it for so long. And I wouldn’t of, if I'd known you’d… urgh, Hal, you’ve been bitin' him? Really?”

Hal sighs and nods. Looking back up at the werewolf and the ghost, seeing the rejection in both of their faces, a sudden flash of anger builds up, and he works hard to not let it overwhelm him.

“Leave, Hal,” Alex says coldly, and all he can do is nod again, gritting his teeth as he realises that whatever would come out of his mouth in this moment would most certainly not do him any favours. He has to keep his composure, he can’t let the other one take over…

_But then again, why not? What have you got to lose now? You’ve already lost your friends, your home, probably your job… what else is there to lose, Harry?_

What, indeed.

He gives Alex a dangerous glare as he moves past her to pull his suitcase out of the bottom of the wardrobe, flinging it onto the bed. “Fine,” he says. “I was done with you anyway.”

***

The M4 is not particularly busy this time of night, and Hal lets the pleasant hum of the 1968 Mercedes around him lull him into a state of calm and serenity, after the raging anger he felt earlier at his friend’s betrayal. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Alex betrayed him, threw him out for being who he is, for following his natural instincts. She doesn’t deserve to be his friend. Neither of them do.

Hal lets out a quiet chuckle. He can’t believe he ever let himself be friends with a dog in the first place.

 _Remember whose car you’re driving,_ an urgent voice at the back of his mind reminds him.

Yes, but Leo was different. Leo served a purpose. He was exactly what he needed at that time. Tom… is just Tom. And Hal can definitely do without Tom.

Hal glances at the dashboard and notices that the fuel indicator is getting dangerously low. Not wanting to have a repeat of their memorable journey down to Barry, he keeps an eye out for the next petrol station, which, being on a motorway, happens to be on the left hand side of the road. Of course.

“Fuck it,” Hal mutters and pulls in.

He brings the car to a halt, gets out and fills up the tank. Just like the motorway itself, the petrol station is quiet this late in the evening. Hal’s eyes wander around the large space, and he sees that there are two other cars parked at the pumps. The owners must have gone inside to pay.

Hal can feel a flicker of unease in his gut. He really shouldn’t be here. There’s a little voice in his head that urges him to just drive off, but he shakes his head, trying to clear it. He locks the car and makes his way over to the shop to pay.

Entering the small shop, he locates the tills along the right hand side and slowly makes his way over. He passes a young couple engrossed in choosing a bottle of red wine, as well as an elderly man inconspicuously trying to read a motorsport magazine that he obviously has no intention of buying.

Due to the late hour, there is only one person manning the tills, a petite young woman with dyed black hair and a friendly smile.

“Hi there,” she says, flashing her brilliant white teeth at him.

Hal swallows and looks down. “Number four please,” he mutters, and out of the corner of his eye he sees her typing something into the computer.

“That’s £45.88,” she says brightly, prompting Hal to put his card into the card machine. The girl takes a look out the window while he types in his PIN. “That’s a flashy car you’ve got there,” she says, and there is something in her voice that makes the vampire in him soar, that stokes the small flame in his gut into a raging fire. He feels his fangs descend, and he is powerless to stop it.

“Thanks,” he says, voice low and husky. His eyes meet hers as she hands him the receipt, and he holds her gaze for a long time.

“Is there… anything else I can help you with?” she asks then.

Hal smiles at her again, showing off just the tiniest hint of fangs. “Yes, actually,” he says, “What time do you get off work?”

The girl lets out a small giggle. “In about an hour.”

“Midnight?” Hal asks, and she nods, biting her lip.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hal can see that the couple have moved away from the wine aisle and are now looking at boxes of chocolates.

“Guess you don’t want to wait around that long,” the girl says, and Hal turns his attention back to her.

“I could come back,” he offers, and then adds, “First I could do with your help, though.”

She raises her eyebrows. “With what?”

“Well, you see, I was wondering if you could help me pick out a bottle of wine for a date I may or may not have later tonight.”

He can see a delicious influx of blood into her cheeks at his words. She smiles at him again, then looks around the rest of the shop and says, “All right.”

A moment later, she comes around the back of the tills and walks with him towards the now deserted wine aisle. Hal’s hunger is flaring as he hears her heartbeat speeding up.

She turns back around to him and asks, “Do you prefer red or white?”

He gives her another bright smile, definitely showing fangs now, and he can see the sudden change in lighting in the shop that tells him that his eyes are shifting to black. Her own eyes are widening in fear as they meet his. “Definitely red,” he says, and leans in. Her skin is soft and delicate, and it takes almost no effort to break through it. He can hear her starting to scream, and covers her mouth with his hand, but still she screams and screams and struggles against him, and it takes all his strength to keep her in place. How much easier things have been with Dominic. It’s made him lazy and careless.

“What’s going on here, mate?” a voice says loudly behind him, and he drops the by now lifeless body of the girl to the floor, turning around to the source of the voice. In front of him stand the young couple he saw before, the tall, broad guy protectively standing in front of his girlfriend. “Shit,” the man breathes as he takes in Hal, covered in blood, and then the body of the girl on the floor.

In a split second, Hal is on him, pushing him into the shelf behind him and once again sinking his fangs into skin. He is faintly aware of the young woman screaming, then calling over to the only other occupant of the shop, the old man at the magazine aisle, to call 999. Hal shoves the guy away from him – still alive, but too weak to get up from where he flops down on the floor, and goes for the woman next.

“You people really need to learn that screaming is not going to get you anywhere,” he says, speckles of blood landing on her face as he speaks. She screams again, and he rolls his eyes before piercing her neck.

The delicious red liquid flowing into his mouth is making him delirious, and it is really getting quite hard to keep his mind focussed now, but somewhere on the edges of his consciousness, he can hear another voice – the old man? – speaking. “Yes, at the service station. He attacked them all, he seems to be _biting_ them—”

Hal drops the woman’s lifeless body and, with the supernatural speed that the sudden intake of blood has granted him, sprints over to the magazine aisle, yanking the phone out of the man’s hand before pushing him up against the shelf and sinking his teeth in. What seems like only a moment later, he feels the old man’s heart slow down and stop, and he lets go of the body, letting it slump to the floor.

“Hello?” he hears through the phone receiver. “Are you still there? Hello?”

Hal drops the phone on the floor with a loud crash and steps on it a couple of times for good measure. Then he turns back to where he left the other man. He is still breathing, Hal notices as he looks down at him, and Hal lifts his wrist up to his mouth, having another few greedy gulps of blood, until he is sure that the man will not get up again.

He straightens up and slowly makes his way out of the shop and back to his car, sitting down in the driver’s seat sated and boneless, with a big smile on his face. He licks a few drops of wayward blood off his lips, savouring the taste, and pulls his phone from his pocket.

**I’m on my way to you. Should be there by midnight xx**

He texts Dominic, then ignites the engine and starts driving.

***

Dominic opens the door and his breath catches in his throat. Hal is standing in front of him, eyes wild and piercing into him, and there is blood _everywhere_.

“Hi, Blondie,” Hal says, grinning, and makes to enter the flat, but Dominic blocks his way.

“What the hell did you do, Hal?” he croaks.

Hal looks at him for a moment with a furrowed brow, then his too bright smile returns and he says, “Oh, this?” He gestures to his face and his blood-soaked shirt. “Yeah, had a bit of a run-in at a petrol station.”

Dominic can feel his breath speeding up as it tries to keep up with his racing heartbeat. “Did you—” he starts, but then decides that this is not a conversation to be having in a public hallway. “Come in,” he says harshly, pulling Hal into the flat by his coat sleeve, which thankfully is one of the few parts of him that are not covered in blood. Once the door is safely closed behind them, he lets go of Hal and asks, “Did you kill someone?”

Hal leans back against the front door, obviously too drunk to hold himself up without assistance, and that smile is still plastered on his face as he says, “Four.”

Dominic’s eyes go wide. “You killed four people?”

Hal nods, then reaches out to touch Dominic’s face. Dominic flinches back from him, frowning.

“You killed four people,” he says again, flatly, and Hal gives him another nod.

“None of them tasted like you, though,” Hal says, eyes finding his again, looking at him intensely.

Dominic shudders and looks away. “I don’t want to know that, Hal,” he says, frowning deeply. “Jesus.”

_It’s finally happened. He’s snapped. The argument with Alex has made him snap. What are you going to do? What can you possibly do? Is it safe? Can he stay here?_

Dominic heaves a deep sigh to calm his racing thoughts. He slowly turns away and Hal’s hand flies out again, this time to grab his arm. “Dominic,” he says, and Dominic stops his movement, but doesn’t turn to face him. “Where are you going?”

“The bedroom,” Dominic says coldly, shaking off Hal’s hand. “To get the bed ready for you. I can’t exactly send you back out there in the state that you’re in.”

Hal doesn’t protest any more as he makes his way into the bedroom and pulls back the covers. Turning back to the door, he sees Hal enter the room behind him.

“Take off your coat and shirt,” Dominic orders, and Hal grins and winks at him before doing just that. A moment later he is topless, moving closer to Dominic, and Dominic has to do his very best to keep his eyes away from his toned chest and stomach. It’s no use getting distracted right now. Walking across the room to the en-suite, he says, “Follow me. We need to get you cleaned up.”

Hal raises an eyebrow at him, but follows him into the bathroom nonetheless. Dominic gets out a flannel and runs it under the tap before turning around to Hal, who has taken a seat on the edge of the bath. He lifts the flannel up to Hal’s face and wipes the dried on blood from his skin, ignoring the feeling of nausea slowly rising in his gut.

_And it’s not even just because of the blood, or the four dead people, is it? It’s because you feel like he cheated on you._

Dominic takes a deep breath, willing the thought away.

“Mmm, Dominic, I knew I could count on you,” Hal says quietly, eyes closed and head tilted back as Dominic is cleaning his neck.

Dominic swallows repeatedly, but doesn’t reply. What is there to say? The sooner he can get Hal into bed and out of his way the better.

He finishes by cleaning both of Hal’s hands, then drops the blood-stained flannel into the sink behind him. His eyes close of their own accord, and a moment later, he can feel Hal’s cool hands on his chest, and then moving up to his face, cradling it as he leans in and presses a too-gentle kiss to Dominic’s lips. It makes him feel like throwing up.

“Don’t, Hal,” he whispers, bringing his own hands up to remove Hal’s from his face before taking a decisive step backwards, away from him. Hal follows him back through to the bedroom, and Dominic gestures over to the bed. “Get in. Sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“I feel great,” Hal says, and that smile is back on his face, and Dominic wants to punch him.

“That’s great,” he says with a small, sad smile, voice breaking. “I’ll be sleeping on the sofa, if you need me.”

He is about to close the door behind him when he hears Hal’s voice. “Dominic?” He turns back around and sees him standing there, and for one moment, he looks just like the old Hal, all bright, serious eyes and a small frown on his face. “Stay?” he asks. Dominic feels his breath catch in his throat once more.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, and closes the door behind him.


	29. The End, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'What do you want?' Alex’s voice comes through the speaker.
> 
> Hal is breathless, frantic, as he replies, 'You have to help him, Alex.'
> 
> 'What?' Alex’s voice is immediately alert. 'What have you done, Hal?'
> 
> 'I… You have to help him,' he repeats. 'Because I can’t.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Apologies for the delay in posting this. As it's such an important chapter, I took my time to rewrite, add and edit bits and pieces until I was more or less fully happy with it.
> 
> Only one more to go after this! Enjoy!

I'm saving up all of my strength  
For when I finally fail  
At keeping you safe

\- Wye Oak, “Two Small Deaths”

 

Dominic looks up from his tea as he hears footsteps in the hallway, and a moment later Hal is standing in the doorway to the small kitchen. He is wearing one of Dominic’s t-shirts, he notices. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and his eyes are tired and red-rimmed, but that wild, intense look is gone from them. Dominic heaves a big sigh.

“Good morning,” he says quietly, eyes not quite meeting Hal’s as the other hovers in the doorway.

“Dominic,” he says, voice croaky, and clears his throat. “I—”

“Don’t say it, Hal,” Dominic says, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up the flask of blood that has been sitting on the table next to him and pushes it towards Hal. He sees Hal’s eyes immediately homing in on it, and his breath catching in his throat as he takes a step into the kitchen, taking a seat across from Dominic and immediately lifting the flask to his lips. Dominic snorts and averts his eyes.

Hal gulps down the content of the flask in one go, then puts it down on the table and takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” he breathes, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Four people, Hal,” Dominic says, and he can’t help the harshness that is creeping into his voice.

“I know, I… I understand that you don’t want me to apologise, so I won’t. There is no good reason that I can give you for why I did it, other than I was upset and angry and I needed to vent.”

Dominic lets out a harsh laugh. “You know, if other people need to vent, they talk to someone, or they might shout, or punch something. They don’t go and kill four people.”

“Yes, well, I’m not other people,” Hal says, and there is a dangerous undertone in his voice that makes Dominic look up at him with a creased brow. Hal’s eyes are hard, all the usual warmth gone from their hazel depths.

Dominic swallows and looks away. “Clearly.”

Silence falls at the table for a long moment, and Dominic can still feel Hal’s gaze on him, piercing into him.

“Dominic—” 

Dominic narrows his eyes at him. “If you’re going to say ‘I love you’ next, I might actually punch you.”

Hal sighs. “But I do love you. That’s why I came to you. I… Alex threw me out.”

Dominic nods. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She did seem pretty pissed off.”

Hal lets out a small chuckle and looks down at the empty flask in his hand. “Yeah.” He clears his throat and continues, “Dominic, please allow me to apologise—”

“Hal—” he starts, but Hal just raises his voice slightly and continues.

“—for talking you into sending that text message. It must have been very… uncomfortable for you.”

Dominic snorts. “My chat with Alex certainly was, yes. I felt like I was being interrogated…” he drifts off, remembering his recent encounter with Detective Inspector Casselli. Shaking off the thought, he takes a sip of his tea.

“I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable,” Hal says, and his voice is quiet and sincere.

Dominic laughs darkly. “Did you tell that to your victims last night, as well?”

Hal actually has the audacity to roll his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dominic,” Hal says. “You don’t want me to apologise, I get that, but then what do you want from me? Aren’t you the one that always goes around telling everyone that we’re monsters and we can’t change? I’m a vampire, Dominic. Killing people is what I d—”

“No,” Dominic interrupts, slightly breathless. “Please don’t say it, Hal.”

Hal looks directly at him then, defiantly. “Why?”

“Because it would mean that I’ve failed,” Dominic admits, so quietly he is sure no human would have picked it up.

Hal reaches out to lightly run his fingers over the back of his hand. He flinches slightly at the contact, but doesn’t pull away.

“You could never have succeeded,” Hal says.

He is quiet for a long moment before replying, “So this is how it’s going to be then? I wait here as you go off and kill random people, and then you come back home and act like nothing has happened?”

Hal scoffs. “Of course not.”

“What then, Hal?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Hal clears his throat. “Just… allow me to stay here. Lock me in if you have to, just keep me away from people. I need to try and sit this out, however long it takes. Just please… don’t give up on me, Dominic.” Hal’s eyes are pleading now, and his hand is holding tightly onto Dominic’s. Dominic stiffens involuntarily at the contact.

“Hal—”

“I know I have no right to ask this of you, after what I’ve done.” Hal rushes the words out, still holding on to Dominic’s hand as if it is a lifeline. “But I won’t be able to do it without your help. Please, Dominic.”

Dominic sighs deeply, looking down at their joint hands on the polished oak surface of the table for a long moment. Then he slowly nods. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Hal’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Dominic pulls his hand away from Hal’s, and for a moment, Hal has a look of almost panic in his eyes, until Dominic gives him the tiniest hint of smile and says, “I need to get ready for work.”

“Of course,” Hal says, looking down, and Dominic gets up and makes his way to the bedroom to get dressed.

When he comes back out, Hal is already standing in the hallway, waiting for him. He stands a good distance away from him and gives him an apprehensive look, not quite sure if Dominic wants him to come any closer. Truth be told, Dominic isn’t actually sure of it himself. But seeing Hal standing there, looking so lost and broken, he can’t help but take a few steps towards him, slowly bringing his arms up to circle them around the other’s frame in a careful embrace. He can tell that Hal is holding his breath, is standing stock still as Dominic gently runs his hands up and down his back. After a long moment, Hal allows himself to bring his own hands up and around Dominic, and he leans his head in to lightly nuzzle his neck.

“I need to go to work,” Dominic murmurs reluctantly, taking comfort in the familiar embrace.

“I know,” Hal whispers into his neck, breath tickling his skin in a way that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Are you going to be all right here until I get back?” Dominic says then, pulling back slightly to look Hal in the eyes.

Hal nods. “I think so. I’ll… just have to keep myself occupied. I’ll be fine.” He gives Dominic the tiniest of smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Dominic tries on a slightly bigger, encouraging smile and says, “Text me if you need anything. There is—” he clears his throat, “—there is another flask in the kitchen, if you need it.”

“Thank you.”

Dominic nods, then extracts himself from Hal before leaning in and giving him a fleeting peck on the lips. “See you this evening.” And without waiting for Hal to even reply, he opens the door and leaves.

***

Hal is sitting on the sofa, flicking through the TV channels, trying to block out the insistent voice inside his head that is whispering to him of the many, many people outside on the street, and in the adjacent flats, and how sweet their blood would taste on his tongue, of how much wasted time he has to make up for. His head is pounding, and there is a gnawing in his gut that is not exactly hunger, but wanting, craving, yearning.

What is he trying to prove, anyway? He’s already lost the fight, he understands that. There is no going back now. It’s only ever going to go one way, so why is he still holding on to this childish desire to be _good_ , this foolish infatuation with that worthless human?

But hold on, he’s not worthless, is he? He’s Dominic, he’s important. He loves him… doesn’t he?

 _You keep telling yourself that,_ a small voice in his mind pipes up. _If it makes it easier._

Hal jumps up off the sofa, pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops down on the floor, starting a round of press ups. He counts loudly as he does them, wilfully ignoring the whispers in his mind.

The front door opens, and Hal can hear Dominic’s footsteps coming down the hallway, towards the living room. A moment later, Dominic’s slim frame appears in the doorway, and Hal chances a look up at him without stopping what he is doing.

“I see that you are keeping yourself busy,” Dominic says with a small smile.

Hal nods and continues counting. “One hundred and five, one hundred and six, one hundred and seven…”

Dominic shakes his head with a small huff and turns to leave the room, in the last moment turning his head back to Hal and asking, “Tea?”

“Yes, thanks,” Hal pants out in between counting, but still doesn’t stop the exercise.

Another few minutes and another hundred press ups later, Dominic comes back into the room, holding two mugs in his hands. He walks around Hal and puts the mugs down on the coffee table, sitting down on the sofa. Hal can feel his eyes watching him.

When he hits two hundred and fifty, Hal bends his arms to let himself sink to the floor, and he lies there for a long moment, catching his breath. There is nothing like a thorough workout to get his mind off… other thoughts.

“How are you doing?” Dominic asks then, and Hal pushes himself off the floor, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling it back over his head before walking over to the sofa.

“I’m okay,” he says quickly, not wanting to betray his inner turmoil. The truth is that Dominic’s proximity is driving him wild, and that he has to consciously hold himself back from jumping on him and sinking his teeth into his skin.

He should just do it. He’s had enough of holding himself back. Months of it, of trying to be good, of protecting this human that has come to mean so much to him. But he’s going to give in eventually, knows it deep inside his bones. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.

 _But no, not Dominic,_ Hal interrupts his own thoughts, taking long, deep breaths to calm himself. _He’s important. I love him._

“Did you stay in all day?” Dominic says then, and there is an undertone in his voice that speaks volumes to Hal of how much Dominic doesn’t trust him currently.

He nods. “Yes, I did. I’ve been good. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to go out on multiple occasions,” he adds, giving Dominic a significant look.

Dominic frowns. “Will I have to… tie you to a chair or something?”

Hal lets out a harsh, short laugh. “No. I think we’re a little bit beyond that.”

Dominic’s frown only deepens. “Well, excuse me, Hal. I don’t really know the ins and outs of your particular situation.”

Hal chuckles darkly as he walks around the coffee table and comes to sit on the other end of the sofa, a safe distance between himself and Dominic. “Don’t worry, Dominic. You’re doing just fine.”

He can feel Dominic’s eyes on him as he sits next to him on the sofa, and some of his defences seem to fall away the longer he looks at him. “I always thought when you finally… revert… that it would be sudden and absolute, not… this.”

Hal’s brow furrows at his words. “What do you mean, this?”

“I mean,” Dominic starts, then takes a deep breath, “that you’re not… you… anymore, not completely, I can feel that. But you’re also not the other one. It’s like you’re switching back and forth between the two so quickly that it makes my head hurt. I don’t know what to do… with you… like this.” He averts his eyes and swallows. “I don’t know how to feel about you.”

Hal reaches out a hand to tentatively touch Dominic’s arm, runs gentle fingers along his shirt sleeve. Dominic shudders slightly at the touch, but allows him to continue.

Dominic fixes his eyes on him then, big and blue and terrified. “Hal,” he just says, then lets out a deep sigh. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I don’t know,” Hal answers truthfully, inching closer on the sofa and slowly bringing his other hand up to cup Dominic’s face. “Let’s just not think about the future, okay?” he asks quietly. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, while we still have the chance.”

Dominic swallows and nods, and Hal takes that as an invitation to lean in and gently touch his lips to Dominic’s. His movements are slow, gentle, so as to not scare Dominic away, and after a few long seconds he feels Dominic kiss him back, lips moving hesitantly against his own, and a hand comes up to run through the hair at the back of his head.

They kiss like this for a long time, neither of them really ready or willing to take it any further, just drawing strength from each other’s closeness. When Dominic finally does pull away, it’s only the tiniest fraction to allow him to take a deep breath, and all he says is, “Hal.”

“Dominic,” he replies, and his lips are back on the other man’s, and he can feel Dominic’s tongue touch his bottom lip, carefully, asking for an invitation that he is only too happy to give. He opens his mouth, lets him in, feels the other’s tongue exploring his mouth, and he meets it with his own. The hunger has all but dissipated in his mind, everything that matters right now is Dominic as he can taste him, smell him, feel him all around him. He hears himself moan into the kiss, and smiles as he can hear Dominic echoing him a moment later.

His hands have come around to the front of Dominic’s shirt, and he is undoing his buttons with nimble fingers, never breaking the kiss. He can feel Dominic shiver underneath him as he runs his hands up and down his exposed chest, fingers lightly rubbing over nipples.

“Mmm, Hal,” he says, breathily, his own hands hooking under the hem of Hal’s t-shirt and pushing it upwards.

Hal pulls away for the briefest moment to pull the t-shirt over his head, then their mouths find each other again in another open-mouthed kiss. Dominic’s hands run up and down Hal’s chest, making his breathing speed up as his own fingers find Dominic’s belt buckle and quickly undo it, followed by the button and zip, and he pushes his trousers and underwear down just far enough to expose his growing erection. Dominic lets out a little needy whimper as his hand closes around the hard length and settles into a slow rhythm.

Dominic’s own hands make quick work of Hal’s jeans, and a moment later, he can feel the human’s warm fingers close around himself, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan that is swallowed up by their kiss. Dominic’s other hand comes back up to Hal’s chest and pushes him backwards, so that he comes to lie down along the length of the sofa, and Dominic crawls up to lie next to him. There is barely enough space to fit them both, but somehow they make it work, and Hal breathes in deeply to take in Dominic’s enticing scent, so very, very close to him.

Dominic’s hand is still on his cock and now the blond man moves his head down, kissing a trail along his neck and his chest, until he finally takes one of his nipples into his mouth, tongue playing with it, and Hal moans again, loudly. Hal’s own hand runs through Dominic’s hair, marvelling at the soft feel of it against his fingertips, while his other hand keeps working steadily to bring his beautiful human closer to release.

His breath is coming in fast, ragged gasps now as he feels himself coming undone, and he is distantly aware of his fangs descending, but he couldn’t care less right now. Dominic, as if he sensed the change in him, lifts his head from Hal’s chest, giving him a long, hard look, chest heaving. There is a question in that look, a question with many layers, which he is not able to all address right now, but he gives Dominic a small, shaky nod. He feels the man shifting next to him, straightening back up to eye level with him, and the next moment, Dominic is kissing him, tongue probing into his mouth once more.

He feels Dominic’s tongue run over one of his fangs carefully, and then Dominic pulls back slightly and repositions himself, giving Hal access, giving him permission. Hal doesn’t think twice before he sinks his fangs into the familiar spot. Dominic’s hand is still on him, bringing him closer to the edge, and he can feel Dominic’s erection twitching under his own hand, signalling that the man is not far behind him.

What feels like only a second later, Dominic moves again, pushing slightly on his chest, and Hal moves his mouth away from his neck, kissing his way down his chest and attacking one of his nipples instead, careful not to break skin. Dominic moans loudly at the sensation and the next moment he spills his release all over Hal’s hand. Dominic’s hand on his own cock speeds up then, and he feels his own orgasm building slowly, until, with a gasp, he also lets go.

They lie on the sofa for a long time, neither of them moving in the too small space, bodies pressed up against each other, chests heaving in unison. Neither of them says anything, as if the mere act of speaking will somehow break the bubble that they have built up around themselves, keeping them safe, away from the world.

Eventually, Dominic sits up, fishing for his discarded shirt on the other side of the sofa, and putting it back on. He picks up Hal’s t-shirt and hands it to him, still not speaking, and barely making eye contact. Hal sighs deeply, but stays silent.

Once Dominic has fully buttoned up his shirt, he stands up and, to Hal’s surprise, holds his hand out to him in invitation. Hal looks back and forth between Dominic’s face and his outstretched hand for a long moment, until Dominic breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he asks, with a small smile.

Hal returns the smile and takes his hand, allows him to pull him up from the sofa. “Thank you.”

***

They carry on like this for the rest of the evening, sharing dinner, followed by a stupid TV drama, followed by BBC news. All the while they are almost silent, with the exception of the occasional ‘yes’, ‘please’, ‘thank you’. Dominic is relieved that Hal has so easily accepted his terms, that he is not questioning the reasons why.

In reality, Dominic cannot bear listening to Hal speak, to that strange mixture of the Hal he has come to know and love and that other creature, the monster that is slowly infiltrating his mind. As long as they are like this, he can carry on pretending like none of it is happening. He knows as well as Hal that it won’t last.

So they sit on the sofa, holding hands, and late in the evening, he follows Hal into the bedroom, wordlessly getting into bed beside him. It dawns on him with a slight pang that he has never shared his bed with Hal in this flat. There is something about Hal coming here that seems to mean terrible things are about to happen, or have already happened.

His sleep is fitful and short-lived, and when he opens his eyes again, he glances past the still sleeping Hal to the alarm clock, which shows 6.03 AM. With a deep sigh, Dominic sits up, knowing better than to expect any more sleep. He waits for the world to stop spinning around him and heaves himself out of bed, making his way slowly to the bathroom. Dark spots are dancing in front of his eyes as he peels off his clothes and reaches into the shower to start the water.

Stepping under the refreshing spray a moment later, he can slowly feel the dizziness subside, and the tiredness lift off his aching bones. He stays in the shower for a long time, just allowing the hot water to soak into his skin, resting his forehead against the cool tiles.

When he emerges from the bathroom, it is to see Hal still sleeping, but there is a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and he appears to be dreaming. Dominic can just about make out the tips of fangs in his slightly open mouth. He swallows down a sudden wave of nausea and quickly leaves the bedroom.

Dominic busies himself with making breakfast, then sits down at the kitchen island to eat, and just like the previous day, Hal walks in a short while later, stopping in the doorway and looking straight at him.

Only this morning, Hal’s eyes clearly show the hunger, the bloodlust, the animalistic urge inside of him, and Dominic recoils instinctively, every fibre of his being urging him to run. “Hal?” he asks cautiously, heart hammering in his chest.

“Dominic,” Hal says, in that voice, the one he only heard the one time, that evening when he attacked the mugger. It sends a shiver straight down his spine. Hal smiles at him, that horrible, chilling smile, and asks, “Sleep well?”

“No,” Dominic chokes out, keeping his eyes fixed on Hal in order to best be able to anticipate his next move. “Did you?”

Hal gives him another smile, moving slightly closer. “Yes, thank you.” Dominic feels another wave of nausea, thinking of what Hal most likely dreamt about. His nostrils flare as Hal steps closer to the table, taking a seat across from him, his predatory gaze never leaving him.

Hal opens his mouth to say something else, but never gets the chance to as at this moment, the doorbell rings loudly, causing both of their heads to whip around in the direction of the doorway. He quickly stands up and walks out of the kitchen, not looking at Hal as he makes his way to the front door. Answering the intercom, he says, “Hello?”

“Mr Rook, it’s Detective Inspector Casselli. There has been a new development, and I have another few questions that I want to ask you.”

Dominic closes his eyes, heart speeding up in his chest. “Err, it’s a… it’s not a good time at the moment, Inspector,” he says lamely.

“I know you need to leave for work soon, Mr Rook, but this is important,” Casselli says in a tone that doesn’t really allow any arguments.

Dominic takes a deep breath, eyes flicking towards the kitchen, where Hal has come to stand in the doorway, giving him a curious look. “I’m really not—” he starts, but then he sighs and says, “All right, then,” and activates the door release. Turning back around to Hal, he says, “You have to hide.”

“What’s going on?” Hal asks with a frown, stepping towards him, and Dominic’s head is spinning at the change in his tone. He suddenly sounds so much more like old Hal again.

“Detective Inspector Casselli is from Special Branch,” Dominic starts to explain.

Hal’s frown deepens. “You’ve spoken to him before?”

Dominic nods. “Yes, he came by earlier this week to talk to me about the… assault, and the break-in. He felt like the two of them might be connected.”

“I see,” Hal says, and there is a dangerous edge in his voice now. “And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me that Special Branch have been asking after me?”

Dominic swallows. “Hal, I thought I’d thrown him off your trail, I didn’t think it was relevant anymore—”

“Not relevant?” Hal growls, but then he freezes, head snapping around to the front door, and his nostrils flare. “He’s here.”

“Hal, please, you need to hide. If he finds you here, he’s going to stake you on the spot.”

“Not if I kill him first.” Hal’s voice is cold and dangerous, and Dominic’s eyes widen.

“Please, Hal,” he repeats, and in a last resort decision, he reaches out and runs his hand down Hal’s cheek. “Do this for me.”

Hal looks at him for a long moment, and Dominic can see the look in his eyes change right in front of him from wild, unbridled hunger to tenderness and love. “Okay,” he breathes a moment later, and disappears into the bedroom.

Dominic makes sure the bedroom door is securely closed before he opens the front door, greeting Detective Inspector Casselli with a big, fake smile. “Inspector, please come in.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr Rook,” Casselli says with a pleasant smile, but his grey eyes are as piercing as ever. Dominic turns away and makes his way through to the living room. He offers Casselli a seat in the armchair and sits down across from him.

“What can I do for you, Inspector?”

Casselli clears his throat. “Well, you see, there has been another Type 2 attack.”

Dominic’s pulse is roaring in his ears, fast and erratic. “Oh yes?” he asks, outwardly a picture of perfect calm.

“Yes. Four people were killed at a service station on the M4, just outside of Reading, about eleven o’clock on Wednesday night.” He pulls a thin folder from his bag and reaches inside to produce a number of photos, laying them out on the table in front of Dominic. Dominic’s eyes roam over the pictures, and his stomach turns. “Among the victims was the petrol station assistant,” he points to a picture of a young woman with black hair, lying on the floor in a small puddle of blood, “as well as three customers.” Here he points to two other pictures, one showing a young man and woman, lying slumped against a shelf, and the other of an old man. Dominic feels like he is about to throw up.

“Are you all right, Mr Rook, you’re looking awfully pale,” says Casselli, a small frown on his face.

Dominic looks at him with wide eyes. “I’m fine,” he says, then quickly continues, “So, what makes you think this attack is linked to the other incidents?”

Casselli takes one final picture out of his bag. “CCTV footage showed this car parked at the petrol station at the time of the incident. We were able to pinpoint the exact time due to one of the customers making a phone call to emergency services,” he explains. Dominic stares with wide eyes at the grainy CCTV image of Hal’s car.

Hal’s car that is right now parked just outside this building.

Dominic swallows and looks back up at Casselli. The Detective’s piercing eyes look straight back at him. “Care to explain how this car ended up parked outside _your_ house, Mr Rook?” he asks.

Dominic takes a few deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. “The car belongs to—”

“SJ031, we know,” Casselli throws in, and Dominic nods.

“Turns out we were right, there is a plot to frame… SJ031… for the crimes committed by another Type 2. Some kind of internal power struggle, as I understand it,” Dominic rushes out, once again finding himself thinking on his feet. “He… came to see me, last night, after he managed to get his car back from the impostors, to seek my advice.”

Casselli never takes his eyes off him. “Please, continue.”

“I advised him to lie low for a while. He must have left the car outside so that his location could not be linked to it.”

Casselli gives him a small nod. “Do you know where to find him?”

Dominic shakes his head. “No. He didn’t tell me.”

“Hmm.” Casselli looks thoughtful for a long moment, standing up. “You know, Mr Rook, something about this doesn’t add up. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is something not right here.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Inspector,” Dominic says, standing as well and following the Detective to the door.

Casselli turns around to him and opens his mouth, but never gets to say what he was going to say as a voice behind him speaks up.

“Detective Inspector Casselli, is it? Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Dominic’s eyes widen in panic as he looks past Casselli to see Hal, standing in the open doorway to the bedroom, eyes black and a menacing smile on his face.

***

Hal paces up and down the bedroom, his hypersensitive hearing picking up bits and pieces of Dominic and the Special Branch Detective talking. Something about the petrol station deaths and CCTV.

His thoughts are going around his head like wildfire. Special Branch have been investigating him, have been talking to Dominic, and he didn’t think it was _relevant_ to tell him about it? What else has he been keeping from him, hiding from him? Can he even trust him at all?

Does he even deserve his trust? He’s just a meaningless human after all, there are billions of them. Why would he make himself so fucking vulnerable?

He internally rolls his eyes at himself, at the other him, the one that wants so hard to be _human_. What’s the point of it, exactly? He’s never understood it. Humans are weak and insignificant, he can be so much more than that.

The voices outside the bedroom are getting louder, and Hal can hear the two heartbeats in the hallway, inviting him. It would be so easy to just step through the door and claim his prize. But he’s promised Dominic to hide, to not interfere. And Dominic is important after all. He loves him. Doesn’t he?

“You know, Mr Rook, something about this doesn’t add up. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is something not right here,” he can hear the Detective’s voice through the bedroom door.

A moment later, Dominic replies, “I’m not sure I follow, Inspector.”

Hal closes his eyes. Special Branch are on to him. This Detective knows that he was responsible for the petrol station attack, he just knows it. He has to stop him before he can do any more damage.

Pushing the bedroom door wide open, Hal steps out into the brightly lit hallway. The Detective has his back to him, all the easier to attack him.

But then again, where is the fun in that.

“Detective Inspector Casselli, is it? Nice to make your acquaintance,” he says, voice smooth as silk, and he gives the Inspector his best smile. Never mind the fact that his eyes are already black, and that Casselli’s own eyes widen in terror as soon as they land on him.

Hal inwardly rolls his eyes. “You’re not even going to try and fight me, are you?” he taunts, before launching himself towards the Detective.

In a fraction of a second, Dominic steps forward and throws himself between Hal and Casselli, pushing both his arms out to keep them away from each other.

“Hal, no, go back inside,” Dominic pleads, pushing with all his might against Hal’s chest. Casselli, he notices, has produced a small stake, but the fear in his eyes betrays his brave façade.

Dominic turns around to Casselli and says, “Leave, Inspector.”

“But—” Casselli starts, raising the hand holding the stake and waving it towards Hal.

“I’ll explain another time,” Dominic says, sounding slightly breathless.

“What are you doing?” Hal snarls, fighting against Dominic’s hold on him.

“Leave, Inspector. Now!” Dominic barks, giving the tall, bulky man an almighty shove towards the front door.

“This isn’t over, Rook,” Casselli throws over his shoulder as he stumbles more than walks down the hallway, but a moment later the door has fallen shut behind him, and Hal can hear his quickly retreating footsteps down the stairs.

Dominic turns around to him then, piercing him with his gaze. “Hal?” he asks, and Hal looks at him, but he can’t really see him. All he sees are his veins pulsing under too pale skin – when did he become so pale? – and he takes an involuntary step closer.

Dominic’s skin is almost translucent, Hal thinks as he reaches out and runs his hand along his neck, fingers coming to lie against his pulse point. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is driving him wild.

“Hal?” Dominic asks again, and there is a warning in his voice now, his big, too blue eyes staring straight into his own black ones, mesmerising him.

Never taking his fingers off Dominic’s pulse point, he feels the delicious increase in his heart rate as he leans in further, burying his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, before shifting slightly and finally sinking his teeth into his neck.

He can feel Dominic tense against him, and there is an almost imperceptible stutter in his heartbeat. He feels the crimson liquid filling his mouth and he swallows hungrily, again and again and again. Somewhere at the edges of his consciousness, he is aware that Dominic is moving in his grasp, that his hands are pushing against his chest, but the pressure is weak and easy for Hal to fight off.

“Stop,” he hears Dominic say, but it doesn’t make sense. Why would he stop now?

His hands come up to take hold of Dominic’s, holding them in a steel grip between their chests, and still he feels the steady stream of blood flowing into his mouth. Dominic is fighting his grip at first, but eventually he stops his struggle as his hands go limp in his own. The blood flow is getting slower now, slower and weaker, and for a while, he feels Dominic’s heart rate speed up to almost impossible levels.

“Hal, stop, please,” Dominic pleads weakly against him, and there is a little voice at the back of his mind that whispers to him, _Stop, you have to stop or you’re going to kill him. He’s Dominic, you don’t want to kill him. He’s important to you._

But how can he possibly stop now? The sweet liquid filling his mouth is everything he cares about now.

_No, it’s not. You have to stop. Stop now, or you’re going to kill him._

Dominic has gone completely limp in his arms now, and his breathing is shallow and weak. With all the strength he can find in himself, Hal tears himself away from his neck, carefully lowering the unconscious man to the floor. His eyes fall on the puncture marks on his neck, and there is barely a trickle coming from them now. Nonetheless, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his handkerchief, pressing it to the wound.

His mind is running wild with the influx of blood into his system, but somehow, he manages to take out his phone and dial Alex’s number, hand still pressing firmly against Dominic’s neck.

“What do you want?” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker.

Hal is breathless, frantic, as he replies, “You have to help him, Alex.”

“What?” Alex’s voice is immediately alert. “What have you done, Hal?”

“I… You have to help him,” he repeats. “Because I can’t.” With that, he cuts the connection.

He tightly squeezes his eyes shut, fighting against the almost overwhelming urge to _just finish the damn job already_ , and he jumps up off the floor, half walking, half running down the hallway and out of the flat, then down the two sets of stairs, out onto the busy road and into his car. And he steps on the accelerator, getting as much distance between himself and Dominic as possible.

***

Alex frowns at the phone for a long moment, then springs into action. Closing her eyes, she conjures up the image of Dominic’s living room, and rent-a-ghosts over in an instant. Looking around the room, she can’t immediately see Dominic, so she reaches back into her pocket to retrieve her phone, dialling his number.

A mobile rings in the hallway. Alex turns on her heels and makes her way through the living room door to find Dominic slumped on the floor in the hallway. She can see a fresh pair of puncture marks in his neck, slowly seeping blood, and he looks deathly pale, but his chest is just about rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

“Shit,” she exclaims as she kneels down next to him and pulls his phone from his pocket, answering the call and putting it on speaker. “Dominic?” she calls, but he doesn’t respond. “Dominic!” a little bit louder. Still no response. “Shit,” she says again, looking around her.

 _“You have to help him,”_ Hal had said. Well, what the hell did he expect her to do?

_Think, Millar, think. What would you do if you were still alive?_

Taking her phone back into her hand, Alex cancels the call and dials another number instead.

“Hello?” the gruff voice on the other end answers.

“Tom? You have to call an ambulance,” Alex says quickly.

“Wha’? Alex? I’ve only just woken up,” Tom mutters, obviously confused.

“Please, Tom, it’s Dominic. Hal attacked him. He’s still alive, but you have to call an ambulance, quickly!”

“Hal attacked him?” Tom asks, and Alex sighs.

“Tom, there’s no time, call the ambulance, we can talk later.”

“All right, just a sec,” Tom says, and then the line goes dead.

Alex looks back down at the pale man on the floor in front of her. “Shit, Dominic. I told you this was a fucking stupid idea,” she says, more to herself than anyone else.

“I can’t say I don’t agree with you,” a voice comes from behind her, and she whips around to see Dominic standing behind her, looking straight at her with wide, serene eyes.

Her own eyes grow huge as she looks between Dominic’s body lying on the floor and Dominic’s… ghost?... standing behind her. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “Have you… I mean… are you…?”

“I think my heart just stopped, yes,” he says, giving her a small, sad smile.

Alex gets to her feet, walking over to where Dominic is standing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you,” she says, following his gaze over to where his body is lying on the floor.

“You did everything you could, Alex. I should never have… never mind,” he trails off, shaking himself.

“He… didn’t mean to kill you,” Alex says, and the next moment wonders why on Earth she would say something like that. It’s not her place to defend Hal, not after what he has done.

“I know,” Dominic says quietly. “He called you, didn’t he?” Alex nods. “It’s funny, but I don’t actually blame him. He… the other one took over. There’s nothing he could have done about it. It was always going to happen.”

“Yes, but he still killed you,” Alex points out.

He gives her a very funny look, then. “I would have taken care of that myself a long time ago if it wasn’t for him,” he says, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“You were going to kill yourself?” she asks, but in that moment, there is the unmistakable sound of a siren coming closer, and an ambulance coming to a halt outside the building. Alex looks from Dominic to the front door and says, “I better open the door for them,” before doing just that.

By the time she joins Dominic again, she knows she’s lost her opportunity to ask, as he says, “So this is what it’s like, being a Type 1.”

“Ghost,” Alex says, but there is a soft smile on her face. His eyes come up to meet hers and he smiles back.

“Ghost,” he echoes.

“Yep, this is it,” she says, nodding. “At least now you can actually see me and don’t end up inadvertently staring at my boobs.”

“I… what?” Dominic splutters, a ghostly blush filling his cheeks even now. It makes her smile harder.

“Just teasing you, Blondie,” she says, earning herself a huff.

A moment later, all hell breaks loose around them. The ambulance crew make their way into the flat and immediately run over to Dominic’s body.

“No pulse,” one of the paramedics is saying, and an oxygen probe is connected to Dominic’s finger and an oxygen mask is placed over his mouth and nose. Another paramedic is ripping the shirt from his chest and is busying himself with attaching electrodes to his skin. A monitor is switched on.

“Patient is in VF,” the second paramedic says then. “Prepare defib.”

Alex sees Dominic watching with wide eyes as the paramedic places the defibrillator plates onto his chest.

“Clear,” the paramedic says, and a moment later, Dominic’s body is shocked by the defibrillator. Dominic winces next to her, flickering slightly, clutching his chest.

“Did you feel that?” Alex asks, eyes wide as he nods.

“Yeah, that was not pleasant,” he replies, glaring at the paramedics, who are already getting ready for the second shock.

“Clear,” the paramedic says again, and Dominic groans next to her, falling to his knees. Alex can see him flickering again.

“Shit, Dominic, what is going on?” Alex asks, crouching down next to him.

“They’re resuscitating me,” he says, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Do me a favour and shut up, Alex,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her while still clutching his chest.

Alex’s eyes wander back over to Dominic’s body, where the paramedics are preparing for a third shock. The plates are secured to his chest, the paramedic calls, “Clear.”

And the little monitor on the floor next to them starts beeping.

Alex’s head whips back around to look at Dominic… except, Dominic is gone.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, just as one of the paramedics announces, “Sinus rhythm.”

“Good on you, Blondie,” Alex says and smiles.


	30. The End, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a sharp intake of breath and Alex says, 'Dominic, you’re not dead.'
> 
> 'I’m… I’m not?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - the final chapter of Part 1.
> 
> I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this. I had a really stressful week and just didn't get the chance before now.
> 
> Anyway, I can't believe I actually finished this! It's been quite a journey. 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Resuscitate in my sleep  
Awake to see you're never here  
And the losing yields another year  
Face your hopes and fears

And I wish  
I could believe there was more  
Hope suffocating  
And you've kissed my life

\- Muse, “Recess”

 

The first thing he notices is a loud, piercing, repetitive noise invading his consciousness. He tries to focus his attention and realises that what he hears is the constant _beep beep beep_ of a heart monitor somewhere behind his head. Doing his best to block out the noise, he next notices something covering his mouth and nose, blowing cold, slightly moist air into his airways. There is something on his left index finger, enclosing and lightly squeezing it. He experimentally moves his fingers to see if he can get it off. Nope, no luck.

It’s dark. There is no light coming from anywhere. But hold on, no, that’s not quite right. His eyes are closed. He tries to find the connection between his brain and his eyelids, and they flutter for a moment before opening. Bright, piercing light shines straight into his eyes, making him groan. His throat is sore, his voice coming out slightly hoarse. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut again to block out the unpleasant light.

“About time,” someone says to his left, relief heavy in their voice. He knows that voice. Where does he know it from? He thinks for a moment, mentally leafing through a list of all the people he knows…

“Alex?” he croaks, turning slightly in her direction without opening his eyes.

“Can you hear me?” Alex says, and there is no small amount of surprise in her voice.

He frowns. “Of course I can hear you.” Then he pauses, going through his most recent memories. “I didn’t realise ghosts can lose consciousness, though.”

There is silence for a moment, before she asks, “What do you mean?”

He clears his throat and continues, voice slightly muffled by the oxygen mask. “I mean that I remember dying, and talking to you, and then… nothing. And the next thing was me waking up here. Just seems strange to me, is all.”

There is a sharp intake of breath and Alex says, “Dominic, you’re not dead.”

“I’m… I’m not?”

Alex is silent again for a moment, and he can almost picture her shaking her head. “No, dummy. They resuscitated you, remember?”

Dominic’s brow furrows in concentration. Now that he thinks of it… “Yes, I remember. So… I’m alive?”

“Yep.”

“And I can still hear you,” he says quietly, his frown deepening.

“It seems that way, yes,” Alex confirms. “I’m not using a phone or anything.”

Turning his head to the side, so that he doesn’t directly face the ceiling, Dominic slowly opens his eyes again. The light in the room is still too much, making him squint, but he can just about take in the wall to his left, painted a light blue, and in front of it a chair and a small table. On the table, there is a bouquet of flowers and a small number of what must be get well cards. Dominic looks back over at the empty chair.

“Can you say something, Alex?” he croaks.

“Something?” she asks.

“Anything.”

“Okay, erm… Stop staring at my boobs, perv?”

He chuckles slightly, the movement of air tickling his sensitive throat and making him cough. He can hear Alex’s voice drifting closer as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Giving another small cough, he finally chokes out, “Yes, I’m fine. Well, as fine as I can be.”

“So I take it you still can’t see me?” Alex asks, and he shakes his head.

“No. Speaking of which, though, do you mind dimming the lights, please, Alex?” he asks.

“Of course,” she says, and a moment later the lighting in the room is at a more acceptable level.

“Thank you.”

Now that his eyes are not aching so much anymore, he takes the opportunity to take another, better look around him. He is in a room on his own, he realises, which is just as well, seeing as he has been talking out loud to a ghost for the last five minutes.

Apart from the table and chair on the left hand side wall, there isn’t very much else in the room. The whole wall on his right is taken up by a window, and there in the corner by his head he sees a drip stand with a blood bag that is connected to his right arm.

“They’ve been pumping that stuff into you non-stop,” Alex says, obviously following his gaze. “I overheard one of the nurses cursing because apparently you’ve got a really rare blood type.”

Dominic lets out another small chuckle, eyes fixed on the blood bag. “O negative,” he says. “Hal said it’s his favourite.”

Alex snorts. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Sorry,” Dominic says. Neither of them speak for a while after this, and Dominic’s eyes roam around the small hospital room again, taking in the small window in the door that shows the busy corridor beyond. Then, sighing deeply and looking down at his hands, he asks, “Have you heard anything?”

It seems to take her a moment to understand what he means. “No,” she says eventually, her tone bitter. “And he better stays away if he knows what’s good for him.”

Dominic sighs again. “I’m worried about him.”

Alex lets out a loud huff. “He killed you.”

“I’m still here though, aren’t I?” he shoots back at her.

“Yes, but that’s not the point, Dominic. You died. That could’ve been it, if you hadn’t been so lucky. Believe me, I’ve got some experience in that department.” Her voice is getting louder and louder towards the end, and it’s starting to make his head hurt. He winces ever so slightly, and Alex must have seen it, as she adds, quieter, “I’m sorry. It’s just a bit of a sore spot for me, you know.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry about what happened to you, Alex.”

At that moment, the door opens, and a young nurse with a friendly, lively face and long, dark brown curls in a loose bun steps into the room.

“Oh, good, you’re finally awake,” she says, giving him a warm smile, which he tries his best to return.

“Yes,” he says, then immediately asks, “Do I really need to wear this mask?”

The nurse bites her lip, stealing a glance at the monitor behind him. “Well, your oxygen levels seem to have been stable for the last little while, and now that you’re awake, I suppose we could try and reduce it enough to use the nasal cannulae instead.”

Dominic gives her a slight frown, not a hundred percent following what she is saying, but nods regardless. “Thank you.”

She throws him another quick smile. “No worries. Let me just sort that out for you.”

Dominic watches her walking over to the oxygen controls on the wall behind him, and a moment later the airflow from the mask reduces, then stops completely as she disconnects it from the wall.

“Here, let me get this on you,” she says, holding out some tubes and fastening them under his nose and behind his ears. “There, better?” she asks, and he gives her a grateful nod.

“Yes, much better, thank you.”

“I’m Claire, by the way,” the nurse says, eyes fixed on the monitor again and jotting down some numbers on a chart at the end of his bed.

Dominic clears his throat. “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Dominic. But then, you already know that.” She looks up from the chart and smiles.

He can hear Alex snickering in the corner at the exchange, and throws a warning look in her direction. Claire, however, must have followed his gaze, as she now looks at him with a furrowed brow and asks, “Everything all right?”

Dominic’s eyes snap back to her as he says, “Yes, yes. Everything’s fine. Sorry, I just thought I heard something in that corner.”

“Oh, you’re such a bad liar,” Alex says with a laugh, and he wants nothing more than to tell her to get lost, but with the nurse still in the room, there is nothing he can do other than ignore her.

“Hmm, I don’t think there’s anything there,” Claire says with a shrug.

“No, I… must have imagined it,” Dominic says, looking slightly sheepish.

“How are you feeling, Dominic?” Claire asks then. “Any pain? Headaches? Nausea?”

Dominic shakes his head. “No, nothing. Well, a bit of a headache if I’m honest, the lights were—” he breaks off, realising that he is getting into dangerous territory.

Claire gives him a small frown. “Yes, I was wondering who turned the lights down in here. You didn’t get out of bed, did you?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Someone… was walking past, outside, and I called out. Must have been a visitor or something,” he says lamely, and he doesn’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes as she listens to him.

“Right,” she says, but doesn’t pursue the issue any further. She turns back towards the door, opens it, then turns back around to him and adds, “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. I’m sure he would like to speak to you. If you need anything, just press the call bell.”

“Thanks,” he says again, and with another bright smile, she is gone.

Dominic immediately turns towards Alex and says, “I’d appreciate it if you could keep your mouth shut while there are other people around.”

Alex heaves a big, dramatic sigh, and says, “Sorry.” A moment later, she adds, “You are a bad liar, though.”

He raises his eyebrows in her direction. “Oh yes? Well, I did just wake up from… basically, being dead.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

“That my brain might not be working at peak efficiency yet?” he tries to explain, but she snorts.

“Well, you know what, there’s nothing wrong with being dead,” she exclaims, and there is a moment of absolute silence following her statement, before they both burst out laughing at the same time.

Once he has calmed down enough to form proper words again, Dominic adds, “Well, anyway, I’ll have you know I can be an excellent liar if the situation calls for it.”

He can hear her sigh again, but this time, it is genuine and solemn. “I know that,” she says, and he is suddenly, painfully reminded of the conversation he had with her after his and Hal’s big revelation.

Another long silence follows, and Dominic’s eyes wander over to the greeting cards on the table again. “Who sent those?” he asks.

“Oh, erm, let me have a look for you,” Alex says, and the next moment he sees one of the cards move off the table. “This one is from your work colleagues, it seems,” she says. “‘Dear Dominic, I hope you feel better soon. All the best, Sarah’,” she reads out. “And then there is ‘Dear Dominic, I wish you a very speedy recovery. I hope your—’” she cuts off suddenly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “‘I hope your Hal is looking after you well while you are poorly. Love, Tracey.’”

Dominic doesn’t respond, feeling unable to talk around the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat.

Alex is silent for a long while before adding, “You told your work colleagues about Hal?”

He gives her a small nod, gaze fixed on a point straight ahead of him. Tears are forming in his eyes, and he does all he can to keep them from spilling over. Alex must have picked up on his sudden change in mood, as she doesn’t say anything more, just leaves him to rein in his treacherous emotions.

Before his tears have even fully dried, however, the door opens, and yet another new person steps into the room – this time it is a tall man in his thirties, wearing the same blue scrubs that Claire had been wearing.

“Dominic Rook?” the man asks. At Dominic’s nod, he continues, “I’m Dr James. Nice to see you back in the land of the living.”

Dominic gives him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“I have to say, you gave us quite a fright, Mr Rook.”

Dominic frowns. “How so?”

“Well,” Dr James continues, “when you arrived with us, the paramedics were barely managing to keep you alive, your blood volume was so low.” Here he pauses, giving Dominic a grave look.

Dominic meets his eyes with his own and nods.

“The worrying thing was,” Dr James says, “that the paramedics also reported there was absolutely no blood at the scene.”

He looks at Dominic again. Dominic swallows, but stays silent.

“We also didn’t find any signs of internal bleeding. The only thing we did find was two…” he pauses, frowning, “….puncture marks. On the side of your neck,” he finishes eventually.

Dominic heaves a big sigh, not entirely sure how to respond to that. His eyes wander over towards Alex as inconspicuously as possible.

“Well, don’t look at me,” she huffs, and he mutters “Thanks” under his breath, giving her a small eye roll.

“Excuse me?” Dr James asks, and Dominic shakes his head.

“Nothing, sorry.”

The doctor’s brow creases. “Do you have any idea how they may have got there?”

Dominic can feel a blush rising into his cheeks, but staunchly ignores it as he replies, “No, sorry, Doctor.”

“Are you absolutely sure, Mr Rook?” Dr James presses, but Dominic only gives him a serious look and nods again. Dr James sighs. “All right, thank you.” Then, a moment later, he adds, “Are you a blood donor?”

Dominic’s eyes widen, and he chokes on a bit of saliva in his throat. “Why do you ask?” He asks between coughs.

“Just because your iron stores are also all but depleted. In a healthy man of your age, this would usually point to internal bleeding, but as I’ve already said, we did not find any source of bleeding,” he explains.

Dominic swallows and finds himself nodding before he has really had a chance to give it much thought. “Yes, I’m a blood donor.”

Alex chokes out a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”

He sends her a stern look before glancing back at the doctor, who is jotting something down on a note pad.

Dr James then goes on to thoroughly examine him, talking about “possible effects of hypoxic brain damage.” When he is finished, he stores his pen torch back in his shirt pocket and says, “Good news, Mr Rook. There doesn’t seem to be any brain damage.”

Dominic smiles. “That’s a relief.”

Finally, Dr James goes through the same list of symptoms that Claire already asked him about, says he’ll write up some paracetamol for the headache, and leaves the room with a small, polite smile.

Dominic lets out a big sigh, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Long day, huh?” Alex says, and he nods silently, eyes still closed. “Well, why don’t you go and get some sleep?” she suggests. “It’s getting quite late anyway, and it’s not like you’re exactly missing anything.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “I think you have a point.”

“Okay, I might just go for a bit then, see how Tom is getting on. I have pretty much abandoned him at home, and god knows he doesn’t cope on his own.”

He gives her a small chuckle, already starting to feel himself drift off to sleep. “You do that, Alex.”

A moment later, with a whoosh of air, she is gone.

***

When he wakes up again, there are rays of sunlight coming in through the window on his right, warming his skin. He has no idea what the time is, he realises, and looks around the room to see if he can find his phone. He can’t.

“Alex?” he asks tentatively.

“Hey there, Bella Swan,” she says, and he glares in her direction.

“Please don’t go there,” he says with a groan.

She laughs. “Why on Earth not? The resemblance is uncanny.”

He snorts, but can’t help the slow laugh bubbling out of him despite himself.

“You’re evil,” he states, making her laugh harder.

“I never thought you’d be such fun to be around, Blondie.”

“Mmm,” he nods, “I’m full of surprises.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to notice,” Alex says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

He continues to look around the room, but can’t find any clues as to what time of day it might be. He asks Alex as much, and she lets out a small laugh.

“It’s half past two in the afternoon. You were out for about fifteen hours.”

Dominic’s eyes widen. “Really? What time did you come back?”

“Around midday,” Alex says nonchalantly, and he swallows.

“And you’ve been sitting there watching me sleep for two and a half hours?”

She is silent for a moment before replying, “I guess so, yeah.”

Dominic lets his thoughts drift for a moment. While he is very grateful for Alex to keep him company, he does wonder what makes the ghost so adamant to sit with him even while he is fast asleep. It’s almost as if…

“Has there been any news?” he asks carefully.

Predictably, Alex heaves a deep sigh and says, “Why do you keep asking for him, Dominic? He killed you. What would you even say to him if he did show up?”

He looks down at his hands, eyes falling on the faint marks on his left wrist, and he lifts his right hand to lightly run his thumb over them. “I don’t know,” he admits, but a moment later adds, “I miss him.”

Alex huffs. “You miss him.”

“Yes.” He nods, turning his head in her direction. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Err… yeah,” says Alex. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record here, but… he fucking killed you. For all we know, he’s since gone on and killed god knows how many other people. And all you can say is you miss him?”

“He needs our help,” he says quietly.

“No,” Alex says, and he can picture her shaking her head emphatically. “He had his chance for that. He didn’t take it. His loss.”

“So you’re just going to give up on him.”

“He made his choice, Dominic.”

Just at that moment, the door opens, and Claire the nurse steps into the room.

“Oh, Dominic, you’re awake. I’ve got a visitor for you.”

Dominic’s heart speeds up in his chest and his breath hitches. Could it be?

But the next moment, his hope is crushed in the most terrible way. Stepping into the room behind Claire is none other than Detective Inspector Casselli.

“Good afternoon, Mr Rook. It’s good to see you again.”

Dominic feels a lump forming in his throat, and his voice sounds hoarse as he replies, “Inspector. What an unexpected visit.”

Casselli gives him a small smile, but doesn’t immediately respond. He turns around to Claire and says, “Thank you, I would like to have some time alone with Mr Rook, if at all possible.”

“Sure,” Claire answers, “just please make sure he doesn’t get too worked up. He is still recovering.”

“Of course, I understand,” Casselli says with a smile, and Claire leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Who the hell is that?” Alex asks, but Dominic gives her a pleading look not to interfere any further before turning his attention back to the Detective.

“I take it you have questions,” he says quietly.

Casselli chuckles, his grey eyes looking at him intently. “You could say that.”

Dominic nods. “Where would you like me to start?”

“The Type 2 you were hiding in your bedroom,” Casselli starts, and Dominic closes his eyes. “That was SJ031, wasn’t it?”

Dominic nods, not opening his eyes. “Yes, it was.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I…” he drifts off, not sure how to continue. What could he possibly say in his or Hal’s defence?

“Let me help you out. You see, while you were unconscious, I did a little bit of digging,” Casselli says casually. Dominic’s heart rate speeds up again, and he opens his eyes to take in Casselli’s serious expression.

“What kind of digging?” he asks.

“I spoke to some of your work colleagues, for one. It was most interesting, what they told me.”

Dominic groans. “They told you about Hal.”

Casselli nods. “Yes. Your colleague Tracey Benton said that you and… ‘Hal’ are – were? – in a relationship. Is this true, Mr Rook?”

Dominic sighs deeply. What’s the point in denying it? Casselli knows the truth, and from everything he has learned about this Special Branch Detective, he is not going to let it go. “Yes, it’s true.”

Casselli’s breath catches in throat, and his voice is very quiet when he continues. “I have to say, Mr Rook, I would never have expected this.”

Dominic can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “That makes two of us, Inspector.”

Casselli frowns and shakes his head, almost as if to clear it. “So I take it it is reasonable for me to assume that you tried to cover up the attacks committed by SJ031 out of… affection… for him?” His face contorts when he says the word ‘affection’, and it causes a sharp stab in Dominic’s chest.

“His name is Hal,” he says pointedly.

He can just about hear Alex mutter, “You tell him, Blondie,” under her breath, and he sends the tiniest smile her way.

Casselli narrows his eyes at him. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Dominic focusses back on Casselli and sighs. “There’s… more to it than that,” he says.

“Right. Well. Enlighten me.”

With yet another deep sigh, Dominic starts into a lengthy explanation of their current predicament with Captain Hatch, starting with their surveillance effort and discovery, and finishing with the Scotland Yard break-in. Casselli sits and listens without interrupting him, and when he finally finishes, Casselli’s eyebrows are almost touching his hairline. Dominic looks at the Detective with wide, expectant eyes.

“So you’re telling me that you have teamed up with the Type 2 _and_ a Type 1 to solve this mystery about the… the Devil?”

“That pretty much sums it up, yes,” Dominic confirms with a nod.

Casselli looks thoughtful for a moment, clearly mulling all this new information over in his head. Eventually, he looks back up at Dominic and says, “That still doesn’t explain the attacks.”

“What attacks?” Alex asks, and Dominic can feel his headache getting worse.

“No,” he says quietly. “No, it doesn’t explain the attacks. I… don’t have anything to say about those, other than I tried my best to prevent them.”

“What attacks, Dominic?” Alex asks again, and he glares at her.

“As I said before,” Casselli says, and there is a hint of smugness in his voice, “no Type 2 is ever entirely trustworthy. But I do of course understand your position, seeing as you are… emotionally compromised.”

Dominic’s nostrils flare. “All I can say is that Hal is the only one who was present at the previous ritual and survived. I believe that if we want to solve this mystery, we will need his help along the way.”

“Yes, except that ‘Hal’ seems to have different ideas.”

Dominic looks at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Casselli clears his throat. “We have received reports that there have been multiple Type 2 attacks across the city over the last few days.” Dominic feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably, but he remains silent, letting Casselli continue. “Even though there have been no eyewitness reports, the sudden occurrence and… shall we say, predictable pattern of these attacks suggests that the attacker is the same as for the petrol station incident.”

Dominic’s voice is hoarse when he asks, “Predictable pattern?”

Casselli looks at him with something almost akin to pity in his eyes. “Young women,” he says.

Dominic swallows. Tears are threatening at the corners of his eyes, and he angrily blinks them away. “I see.”

Casselli clears his throat and continues, “Anyway, as I was saying, I doubt that SJ031 will be all that interested in cooperating with us.”

Dominic’s mouth opens, but no words are coming out as his mind is stuck on the Detective’s previous words.

“I do hope you realise, Mr Rook, that I could arrest you for perverting the course of justice.”

Dominic finds that he is not fully able to take in the Detective’s words, so he just nods.

Casselli sighs. “Now, as I told you previously, I do respect you greatly for the work you and your department have done, and for your expertise in this particular… demographic. I would therefore be willing to offer you a deal.”

Dominic stares at him for a long moment, his brain slowly catching up with what Casselli has been saying. “A deal?” he asks hoarsely.

Casselli nods. “I will forget about your… transgressions, if you help me bring SJ031 to justice.”

“Well, sorry, Inspector, but that’s never going to happen.”

“Mr Rook—”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want Hal to stop what he is doing just as much as you do. But I will never wilfully hand him over to you.”

Casselli sighs. “I thought you might say that.” There is a brief pause, before he adds, “Well, think about it, anyway.”

“I doubt I will change my mind, Inspector,” Dominic says, and his eyes close of their own accord as he feels himself suddenly overcome with tiredness.

Casselli looks at him for a long moment before saying, “Perhaps I should go. I will talk to you again soon.”

Dominic blinks and nods, too exhausted to form any more words. Casselli stands up from the chair he has been sitting in, giving Dominic a curt nod, and leaves the room without another word.

Immediately, Alex’s voice pipes up, “Why didn’t you say anything about these attacks? When did they happen?”

Dominic opens his eyes with some effort and looks towards her, tears still prickling in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice is barely audible.

“And who was the guy, anyway?” Alex continues.

Dominic sighs. “Detective Inspector Casselli, Special Branch,” he says flatly.

“So, he’s basically doing your job now.”

Dominic nods. “Yes. Except, I never had the power to arrest people.”

“Well, you surely locked up enough people.”

Dominic opens his mouth to argue, but stops himself. She’s right. His argument that ‘they weren’t really people’ doesn’t stick anymore, does it? He closes his eyes again, eyelids too heavy to stay open.

“Maybe I should… leave you alone for a bit,” Alex suggests, and Dominic lets out a deep breath.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He can hear the tell-tale whoosh of air, and the next moment, he finds himself alone in the room for the first time since he woke up yesterday. For a long time, he lies in bed and goes over his conversation with Casselli in his head again and again. The thought of Hal, on a killing spree across London, makes his throat constrict. One fat tear escapes from his right eye, rolling down his cheek. With a deep sigh, he rolls over onto his side, careful not to disturb the cannula in his arm, and drifts off to sleep again.

***

He wakes up feeling unrefreshed. Rolling back onto his back, he groans as he realises he has a crick in his neck from the way he has been lying. He careful turns his head this way and that to loosen his aching muscles.

He opens his mind to search for Alex’s presence but finds it to be absent. With a slight frown, he calls “Alex?” into the silence.

There is no answer, and he looks around the room once more to get his bearings and perhaps any clue as to what time it might be. The sky outside is dark, the only light shining in from the window a combination of the nearly full moon and sickly orange glow of the ever present London city light pollution.

Dominic lies there, looking out the window, for a long time. His thoughts, predictably, wander to Hal, and he wonders where he might be, what he might be doing at this moment.

 _Probably sinking his teeth into some pretty young girl’s neck,_ he thinks bitterly and winces. _That’s how quickly he got over you. You were right all along, he didn’t really care about you. It always was purely about the blood. And here you are, crying yourself to sleep over him like a lovesick puppy._

For only the second time in his life, Dominic feels achingly, overwhelmingly lonely. He wishes he hadn’t fought with Natasha. He wishes Alex was here. He wishes for a brief, painful moment that he had never spoken to Hetty. That he had never met Hal. He swallows down the painful lump in his throat, and once again wishes he had his phone to hand, just to give him some kind of connection to the outside world. Shifting his hand to try and prop himself up, his fingers brush against something – paper? He looks down and his eyes widen.

There, on the mattress, next to his hand, lies a blank white envelope. Dominic doesn’t even need to open it to know who has left it there.

The thought of him having been here, in this room, so close to him, causes a stutter in his heart and a tremor in his hand as he slowly reaches out to lift up the envelope. He sits there, just holding it in both of his hands, for what feels like a small eternity.

Eventually, he hooks his thumb under the flap on the envelope and opens it. Inside is a blank, black and white card that shows a single black bird – a raven? No, he realises a moment later, a rook – sitting in a leafless tree. It’s devastatingly sad and utterly beautiful.

With trembling fingers, he opens the card, and his breath catches in his throat. Written inside are only five words, but they are enough to make his heart break into tiny pieces.

_I’m sorry_

_I love you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> I will probably not start posting Part 2 for a couple of weeks at least, as I do want to get few chapters written before I start posting. But the outline is there and I've grown way too attached to these characters to not continue :)


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